Tears in a Bottle
by Paper-Whore
Summary: Mogul Erik's life is turned upside down when he gains guardianship of his niece. When Christine loses everything in Erik's scheme and confronts him, he offers her a deal she knows she can't refuse.
1. Chapter 1

**Tears in a Bottle**

Well, to celebrate/commemorate (mourn) the end of _Love Never Dies_ in Australia this weekend, I present my newest phic.

To my wonderful Beta, thank you for all your advice, support, loving all my _Phantom/LND/Les Mis/_Paris references and for missing the deadline so we had an excuse to eat cake!

I do not own _The Phantom of the Opera_.

* * *

><p>PROLOGUE – TWO YEARS AGO<p>

The moonlight glistened in through the open curtains, lighting up a path across the expanse of the study. It only illuminated the painting that hung above the fireplace; the rest of the room was lost in shadows. Nothing could be distinguished in the gloom. The music box, books, desk and chairs were all eerie black shapes in the darkness.

Alone in the massive chateau, forced to face the loneliness and darkness that seemed to stretch out before him, Erik Lechmere sat in the shadowed room, a glass of gin in his hand. For the past fifteen years he had been pretending to live a life like anyone else. He had bought himself a house and filled it with furniture and beautiful things, hoping that would make him happy. But it never did.

Erik sighed sadly as he took a sip from the crystal glass before setting it down on the desk. Suddenly restless, as if he could outwalk the loneliness that threatened to overwhelm him, he surged to his feet and paced the floor. Stopping in front of the fireplace, he gazed up at the only thing that was visible in the room: Degas's _Singer with a Glove. _

He would occasionally suffer from negative dispositions where he felt so painfully alone that he could not bear to sleep. These nights he would pace the garden or, in winter, sit in the study. Aware of the dreams that would haunt him, he tried to avoid falling asleep on these nights. He could not bear to imagine his painting coming to life and wrapping her arms around him only to wake and find it was a dream.

No matter how much money he spent, how much he gave away to charities or how many schemes he created, Erik knew he would always feel as if there were a gaping hole that could never be filled.

What was the point to life if he could never rid himself of this ache that filled him with the most insufferable pain?

* * *

><p>Erik paused in front of the building in Paris and drew in a shaky breath. He tucked his hands in his pockets so no one could see the way they were shaking almost uncontrollably with anxiety. Pulling his hand from his pocket, Erik checked that the white mask that covered the right side of his face was in place. Feeling slightly more comfortable knowing that the mask hid his face, he quickly returned his hand to his pocket.<p>

He did not know how this had happened. Only a few days ago, his life had been normal. He had been working on another business plan – his sister would have called it a harebrained scheme – but Erik knew it was brilliant. Victoire did not understand the first thing about investments. As with all business investments, he knew he would upset some people. He tried to avoid that as much as possible, but knew with investments like these, it was impossible. He had found the crazier the scheme, the faster it seemed to earn money. And unfortunately, the more people it seemed to trouble.

That was what he wanted for people: to help them make money so that their lives would be easier. It was through his investments that he was able to afford his lavish lifestyle and the small brigade of servants who kept his multi-million Euro chateau just outside of Paris in order. His three-storey eighteenth century chateau sat in the middle of almost a hundred acres of land, complete with an oak-lined driveway and swimming pool. It looked like something out of a novel.

Erik's company, Lechmere Enterprises, was one of the most respected organisations in France. Not only was he respected because of the money he was able to make for others, but he also donated more than a million Euros every year to various charities; his personal favourite being for young burns victims.

He had not seen his sister in almost a decade. The last time he had seen Victoire was the day of her wedding. He knew he wouldn't be welcomed at the reception and so had hidden at the back of the church and watched as she exchanged vows with Linsey. Erik had left the church before Victoire and Linsey had turned to start their walk down the aisle. That was the last time he had heard from her.

Even when their father had died, Erik had decided not to attend the funeral, leaving it to Victoire to represent the family. He did not know his father – he left not long after his mother fell pregnant – so Erik saw no reason to go to the funeral. It was probably because he didn't attend that no one in the family saw fit to inform him of the deaths of his sister and brother-in-law. The first he knew of it was when his solicitor had contacted him with details of Victoire's will.

For reasons that Erik would never know, he was now the guardian of the eight-year-old niece he had never met. Erik had been given one day to adjust to the idea of being an uncle and a father, and still it wasn't enough. He did not even know about Arabella's existence until a few days ago. Now he was her guardian.

He would have thought – hoped – that the guardianship would have gone to Linsey's parents but he was clearly wrong. Suddenly annoyed at his sister, Erik wondered if Victoire was pressing her daughter on him because she worried about her younger brother being alone for the rest of his life. Maybe she hoped that if he raised his niece he would learn to love. Shrugging, Erik decided he was probably better off not knowing what went on in Victoire's mind. Distracted by his thoughts, Erik paid no attention to the wild wind that whipped up, causing his coat to flap and his black hair to blow about carelessly.

His hands shaking with nervousness, Erik stepped forward to meet his niece.

* * *

><p>With Arabella sleeping thanks to his housekeeper, Mrs Dalmau, Erik closed himself away in his study with a glass of gin and breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a very long day. Arabella had cried nearly the entire way home to Angers, leaving him frazzled and headachy. Forgetting that he had his business plan laid out in front of him, Erik's thoughts drifted back to his first conversation with his niece.<p>

"You're my Uncle Erik?" Arabella asked as she looked at Erik as he drove home. She cuddled her doll against her chest.

"Yes," Erik repeated his same answer to the same question he had heard at least a dozen times. "Your mother was my sister."

"You don't look like Mama," she said before bursting into noisy tears.

Erik sighed. What did one do with a blubbering child? He had not had any experience with children and found himself completely lost. At least she had the good sense not to comment on his mask. He knew the moment she had noticed it. Her pale blue eyes, which were so like his sisters, widened with horror and her little body began to tremble. While Erik was talking to her protection officer, Arabella screwed her eyes shut and shook her head, sending her blonde hair tossing around her shoulders.

"Don't cry, Arabella," he ordered wearily as he glanced at her briefly as he drove along the highway. The little girl only began to cry harder. Apparently instructing the little girl not to cry was not the smartest thing. He cast about for something to say. "You'll like your new home. It's a castle and it's waiting for you!"

Arabella's tears stopped long enough to glance at Erik.

Taking that to be a good sign, Erik continued to tell her about the chateau with its swimming pool, stables and seventeen bedrooms. "I'll show you all the rooms and you can pick one you like best. Then if you like, we can employ someone to decorate your room for you. You can have any colour you want."

"I don't want a new room! I want my old room! Papa decorated it for me." She started to cry heart wrenching sobs that broke Erik's heart.

Erik sighed again and tried to change the subject. "I've already enrolled you in the best school in Angers. You'll have the best teachers and the best education. You can make new friends. I'm sure lots of girls will want to be friends with you. It will be perfect."

Arabella shook her head. "I don't want a new school or a new room or new friends. I just want my mama and papa back! I want to go home to Paris!"

Glancing down at the papers in front of him and blinking back tears, Erik could already see how much of an impact his niece was going to have on his house and well-ordered life. The chaos that had ensued after he had brought her home was unlike anything he had ever seen. He needed to find a way to set his life back to the way it was. Somehow, he thought philosophically, he doubted that would ever happen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Tears in a Bottle**

Thank you to everyone who took the time to read and review the first chapter! I love hearing from you all. Here's a little chapter for you to enjoy before we meet Christine.

* * *

><p>If Erik had been frazzled during that short car drive from Paris to Angers with Arabella and adjusting to life with his niece, he was doubly so now. His life and business were going from bad to worse. He, of all people, should have known that if something looked too good to be true it was. He had invested a sum of his money, and convinced several hundred others to invest with him in a scheme, which should see their wealth tripled in four years.<p>

Everything had looked perfect on paper. When his colleague, who he had invested with on numerous other occasions, spoke of it, Erik saw no problem with it. It was not until Jean had all the money – several million Euros – that Erik realised things weren't quite as they seemed. Jean was not quite as he seemed.

There was no scheme. There were no highflying deals. Jean, who Erik had trusted so deeply that he leant his business name to the scheme, had robbed him and hundreds of other average French-men and -women of their money.

Now, as the face of the scheme, Erik – and Lechmere Enterprises – was suffering the abuse from the investors whose lifesavings were gone in a nonexistent scheme. He could see his peaceful life and reputation going down the drain and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He had tried explaining to the first investor who called that it had not been his fault, that he was as much a victim as she was. But the woman continued to abuse him and demand her money back. That was the first and last call Erik took. Never again would he confess to being such a trusting idiot and never again would he allow a stranger to upset his life in such a fashion.

Guilty, distraught and anxious, Erik hid himself away in his study, where despite being surrounded by beautiful things he did not feel any better. It was all Jean's fault and there was nothing he could do. All he could do to ease everyone's suffering was to pay back the money. He pulled his mask off and cried as he imagined the investors hunting him down and burning his house to the ground; his life and reputation in tatters. His nails dug at the right side of his face in a poor attempt to distract himself from the pain of his peaceful, ideal life slipping away. Jean and Arabella had both seen to that.

For more than a week Arabella continued to turn his life and house upside down. He had hired an interior designer and had her redecorate Arabella's room in shades of pink and blue. That had pleased the little girl and made her happy – at least for an hour. But every night, alone in her bedroom, she would cry. He had enrolled her in the best school in the area and hoped that if she would make friends she would stop crying herself to sleep.

At night, he would stand by her closed bedroom door and listen as she cried, imagining her little body wracking with sobs. With every sob, part of his heart would break along with Arabella's. He knew how lonely she must feel when it seemed as if she were the only person in the world and that no one cared about her. The poor child's life had gone from secure to upside-down in a matter of days. He had once been that child.

Erik suspected that if he had someone sit by his side as he tried to fall asleep as a little boy he would not have cried himself to sleep nearly every night until he was seven, not would he feel so sullen and opposed to the world. Only once had Victoire sat on the end on his bed and rested her hand on his foot which was tucked beneath the covers. It had only taken their mother a few minutes to discover Victoire's whereabouts and order her from the room. She did everything should could to keep the two children from each other. It was as if she was afraid that Erik's ugliness would rub off on her beautiful daughter.

Delving deeper into the forgotten memories of his childhood, Erik recalled the hours he spent alone at school and in the backyard, hidden out of sight under a tree. Not only had he been cursed with being poor as a child, but his face also tormented him. A freak accident that had occurred just after his conception, that even now he didn't understand, had left him without a nose and with wrinkled and discoloured skin over the right side of his face. The left side of his face was perfect, almost Adonis-like. It tormented him every day with its perfection.

All his life, he had questioned the world, an invisible force and society. For the past thirty-four years he had asked the same questions and for the past thirty-four years he had received no response. Why had he been cursed with being poor and ugly? Why couldn't he have been as good looking and popular as his sister? Why could no one see _his_ kind heart? Whatever had he done to deserve such treatment not only from his teachers and strangers but also his mother? Why could no one touch him with any kindness? Why did everyone hate him because he was different?

Receiving no response from these questions, he found the world lacking in any warmth or kindness. The world had only hated him and he would hate it in return. It deserved nothing but his hatred. It had condemned him and now he was condemning it in return.

All his life he had fought. As a child he had fought to be noticed by his mother and sister, to be accepted at school, to be seen as an intelligent child rather than a monster, to earn some money so life wouldn't be so difficult. And even now he was still fighting. He struggled to find recognition and companionship.

He had been a good boy; he had always tried to do the right thing. The boys at school had started fights with him and at first Erik had tried not to hit them; he just curled up on the ground, not wanting to hurt them. But in the end, he realised that they would beat him until he did fight back. It was always Erik who got the cane. He never protested and he never tattled on the boys who had started the fight.

The only person who had ever shown him any type of kindness was Victoire. But, fearing their mother's anger and the teasing of the other children at school, was always careful about spending too much time with Erik or defending him against others.

He tried to make his mother love him with gifts and deeds and pretty songs. With no money, he had been forced to be creative. But that was never good enough for her; only Victoire and her gifts were good enough. But society, a distant mother and a cruel world all turned the little boy, with so much heart and potential, into an anxious and, at times, severe man. If it weren't for Victoire, life would have been much worse than it was already.

He hoped that with Arabella living with him, he would find that companionship he craved. Together, he and Arabella would forge a bond. She would be able to ease the loneliness he had suffered his entire life and he would ease her sadness at losing her parents.

One day after a particularly difficult call with his lawyer, Erik left his study to find his niece in the kitchen with Cook, crying into a cup of hot chocolate. As always, the curtains were drawn against the bright sunlight and the room – like all the others in the house – was lit with low voltage lights so no one would be able to see Erik clearly and also so his eyes, unaccustomed to bright lights, wouldn't sting.

"What's wrong, Arabella?" he asked with a sigh as he sat down on the stool beside his niece. He was tired of seeing her pain and being reminded daily of the pain of his childhood he had tried so hard to forget. "Arabella? What is the matter?"

Cook shook her head as if to say he was approaching the situation the wrong way but it was too late.

"I miss Mama and Papa! I don't want to live here with you any more! I want to go home."

Erik sighed. He had no idea how to deal with the little girl, how to reach out to her. He could feel her pain as if it were his own, but he did not know what to do about it. He wanted to love her. He wanted to give her the childhood and love he had never had but he did not know how to do it. He had tried so hard to build a relationship with someone – _anyone_ – and had been rejected so many times that he didn't know how to begin to build a relationship with his niece.

"I'm an orphan!" she cried, tears spilling down her cheeks and plopping into her chocolate.

"I know. I am too," Erik responded softly as he reached out to wipe a tear from her cheek but pulled his hand away before he could touch her skin. A lifetime of rejection prevented him reaching out to comfort her. He tucked his hand in his pocket so he wouldn't be tempted to touch her.

"You are?" She wiped her eyes and looked at Erik in a different way, realising she wasn't the only child in the world without parents.


	3. Chapter 3

**Tears in a Bottle**

**Chapter 3**

Christine gazed out through the haze of cigarette smoke at the crowd in front of her and wiped her eyes. She tried to tell herself that her eyes were filling with tears because of the smoke and not the fact that she had just lost almost everything she owned. But she knew it was a lie.

Valiantly battling against the despair that she could not forget, she tried to keep singing. It was hard to sing the upbeat song about how wonderful a stranger's life was when her life and dreams were falling apart before her eyes.

Struggling with her emotion, her throat seized up halfway through the song, preventing any sound from emerging. Then the tears she had tried to ignore spilled down her cheeks. Before she knew it, a sob burst from her lips and thanks to the microphone, echoed through the club. Mortified she rushed off stage to the safety of the staff room.

It was all Erik Lechmere's fault, she decided as she locked herself in a toilet cubicle to cry. She wrapped her arms around her head, as if that would somehow block out her pain and anger, messing up her dark brown curls which had been artfully arranged in a French twist. Her turquoise eyes were red and swollen with tears.

It was all because of the mysterious entrepreneur that she had lost twenty thousand Euros. She had heard all about Lechmere Enterprises and its successful outcomes for its clients. The business was the most powerful in all of France. Erik Lechmere also gave millions to various charities every year, showing that, to Christine's mind, he did not only care about himself, but others who were less fortunate. She thought that those credentials would be enough when she invested almost all of her lifesavings in the new scheme the manager he created. But it had not been enough, she realised, causing another wave of tears.

She had hoped that by investing with Lechmere Enterprises she would be able to give up her job of singing every night in the dark and smoky club. The guests weren't always the most polite and respectful of the staff. She had dreamt of leaving this place.

Her investment with Lechmere Enterprises was meant to ensure that happened. She was supposed to leave the dive that she hated so passionately and find a job that she enjoyed. She loved her singing but she wished she were performing elsewhere. But with almost all of her savings gone, she couldn't go anywhere. For a week she had enjoyed performing only on the weekends. But now, her dream was shattered and she would have to find another job and try to rebuild her savings and her life.

When she had called the company, demanding to speak to the manager rather than having the phone answered by a secretary, it was screened. When she said her name, she was simply disconnected. It was as if Erik Lechmere knew who his investors were and was going out of his way to avoid them.

Christine hated Lechmere Enterprises, Erik Lechmere and everything he stood for. She wanted to see the man who could so callously and carelessly ruin hundreds of lives and not care. She wanted to give the man who thought he was a god a good a piece of her mind. She wanted to see him suffer the same way she had suffered.

She knew from his phone number he was based in Angers. That was why she had invested with him. He was a local who knew what others in Angers were going through. She thought she could trust a fellow Angers resident.

Now, all she had to do was figure out where his office or home was. Then, she would speak to him. She would not allow his obsession with screening his calls to stop her.

* * *

><p>For the entire lunch hour, Arabella sat under a tree, alone. She had been at the school for two weeks and she still had no friends. She hardly spoke in class. She did not answer questions. When the teacher asked a question, she was often the only one who did not put up her hand. Instead, she just hung her head, hoping she would not be picked.<p>

She felt so lonely. The only thing she had was her stories. At lunch she would hide under the tree and read. At least, with her fictional characters for company, she did not quite notice how alone she was.

Her parents had left her; they were dead. She had been forced to leave behind her friends in Paris when she had moved to Angers with her uncle. As for her uncle…she may as well be living alone. He never spoke to her. He never helped her with her homework. Her father used to tuck her into bed every night. Erik never did that.

The only person who paid any attention to her in the giant chateau was Cook. The elderly lady fixed her afternoon tea everyday. She would take a few minutes out of her busy dinner preparations and sit down at the island table in the kitchen and ask after her day. Cook was the only good thing in that whole house!

* * *

><p>Christine stared at the address she had had just been given. There it was. This was the address of the man who had ruined her life. She didn't think she would ever actually get it – it had been too easy, really.<p>

One of the regulars at the club was a police officer. Christine knew that he desired her. She had spoken to him a few times and he had always been polite – if a little overfriendly. The idea of using the man's attraction to get what she wanted sickened her, but she wanted Erik's address and her money more than her pride.

It had cost her a drink at the bar with the man, but Christine had managed to convince him to find the address for Erik Lechmere or Lechmere Enterprises. She wasn't sure of the success he would have, but she was willing to give it a try.

Tonight, after she had finished performing, the officer gave her the slip of paper and, in weary tones, explained the trouble he had had trying to find it. He had been forced to search several different times, through several different systems. But eventually, he had been able to find the residential address of two of Lechmere Enterprises' employees. Assuming that they were servants who lived with Erik, the officer was convinced he had finally found the address and presented it to Christine.

Now Christine had to decide what to do with the information that she had.

* * *

><p>"Can I sit with you?" Arabella asked in a tiny voice as she peered around the door.<p>

She was so lonely that even her frightening and silent uncle was better than nothing. Cook was busy tidying the kitchen and had shooed her out of her way. Mrs Dalmau moved through the house too quickly for Arabella to keep up.

Erik looked up from the paper he had been perusing before his conference call and stared at his niece. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes and knew how lonely she must be feeling to ask to spend time with her uncle who was still a stranger.

Recalling how lonely he had often felt as a child Erik nodded. "I'm expecting an important call in a few minutes," he began, his finger pointing warningly in her direction. "I need you to be quiet."

The little girl nodded solemnly and sank down into a chair as far away from Erik as possible. She might have been willing to be in the same room as him, but she was not yet ready to be near him.

While conducting his business call, Erik watched his niece. He noticed the way she read her book but paused every few minutes to gaze out the window, her eyes full of tears. He also noticed when she set her book aside and began to explore the shelves of the study. Nervous, he watched as she picked up his antique books and read the cover before putting them back. She then turned her attention to his sixteenth century music box – which was his pride and joy – and with her tiny fingers, turned the key to make it play. Listening to the music pour from the box, it was all Erik could do not to race across the room and snatch it from her hands. Drawing in a shuddering breath, his hands clenched on the arm rests, he tried to focus on the conversation and not pull the music box from his niece's hands like a jealous schoolboy.

Still discussing how to fix the problem that was his last scheme, Erik glanced briefly at Arabella who was lifting the lid on a wooden box, which contained a pistol that was believed to belong to Napoleon I. Shaking his head, he pushed out of his seat and with the suffering sigh of a parent, took the box from Arabella's hands and returned to his desk. With the box safely in front of him, he returned to his conversation without missing a beat.

Arabella watched him closely before going to the fireplace to stare up at the large Degas that had pride of place above the mantel. Her little pale blue eyes widened with delight as she sat down in front of the empty grate and gazed at the painting of a singer.

Content that his niece would not move from her spot in front of the painting, Erik returned his attention to his phone call. It was not long, however, until he was distracted once again. Not by Arabella, but by a commotion outside. For a few minutes, he continued with the conversation, waiting for his staff to manage the problem.

"Stay here; I'll see what the problem is," Erik instructed Arabella after hanging up from his call. Whatever was the problem, his staff couldn't deal with it. Annoyed, Erik went to investigate.

For the past few minutes, chaos had reigned as his staff had struggled to deal with whatever was the problem. In the foyer of his chateau, he found the housekeeper and cook struggling to keep a brunette from progressing any further into his home. The woman was shouting at the staff, trying to shake off their restraining grips.

"What is the meaning of this?" he snapped, glaring between his staff and the brunette.

"Are you Erik Lechmere? Manager of Lechmere Enterprises?" She looked at him, her turquoise eyes flashing with rage.

Erik had been about to do instruct his staff to throw her out, but stopped and frowned at the woman. "Let her go and return to your duties. Why do you ask?" he questioned when he was alone in the foyer with the woman. He took a menacing step forward, effectively backing the woman out of his house and on to the terrace. The rage fled from her eyes, instantly to be replaced with fright.

"I'll assume that means you _are_ Erik Lechmere," the woman answered loftily her eyes flashing once more with anger. She folded her arms across her breasts and glared up at him.

"What are you doing in my house?"

"It's a lovely house," she commented, looked around her. "It must be expensive. Though, I suppose considering that you make a habit of _stealing _money from people you can easily afford it. I can see that you don't care about the people and lives you ruin. Just as long as your house is beautiful that's all that matters. I suppose you finance your lifestyle with the stolen money."

Erik wanted to protest that he didn't steal from anyone, that it was not his fault, but he had more urgent issues to deal with. He had to get this pesky – but beautiful – woman out before Arabella heard her. He did not want his niece thinking he was a thief as well as odd. "How dare you come in here and interrupt my life with these false accusations! I don't know how you found where I live but I want you off my property right now!"

When faced with his rage, the woman skittered back a few steps. Her anger was nothing compared to Erik's and she seemed to know it. She would not be able to win a battle of wills and she certainly would not be able to best him physically.

"Uncle Erik?"

Erik flicked his niece a brief glance before turning back to the woman. Had not he told her to stay in the study? Clearly the child saw no reason to listen to him. "Arabella, go down to the kitchen; Cook will look after you."

Arabella shook her head. Her face took on a mulish expression he could easily recall seeing on his sister's when they were children. "That lady said you stole from her. You didn't, did you?" She looked up at him with blue eyes, pleading with him to tell her that he hadn't done it.

Erik shook his head. "It's all a big misunderstanding, Arabella. I want you to do what you're told and go downstairs while I talk to Miss…"

"Daaé. Christine Daaé. I'm surprised you don't remember me. I was one of those people from whom you accepted all their lifesavings and instead of giving me the return you promised, you have left me nearly broke."

Merely raising a black eyebrow, Erik turned calmly to Arabella. "As you can see, Miss Daaé and I have a lot to talk about. _Now go._"

Erik turned and watched his niece head downstairs, dragging her feet as she went. Once he was alone with his furious investor, Erik turned to Christine. "I want you out of my house right now."

Christine shook her head. "I want my money back! I'm not leaving until this is resolved."

Erik sighed, wondering how he was going to get rid of the woman. "I can't very well just give you your money back."

"Of course you can," Christine scoffed. "It's clear that you have more than enough money and can easily afford to give me my twenty thousand Euros."

Feeling a headache coming on, Erik rubbed the bridge of his nose. His fingers met with soft leather but he did not notice. "If I do that I'll have to return everyone's money, Mademoiselle. What I do for you, I will have to do for others." Even as he rejected the notion, Erik was becoming more and more convinced that it was the right thing to do.

Christine shrugged. "That's not my problem. You can afford it."

"Look-"

"No, you look," Christine interrupted angrily, jabbing her finger in his face. "Not all of us are multi-millionaires who can afford to lose twenty thousand. That was my lifesavings! I have almost nothing now! You have your reputation to think of. You should pay back the money!"

Realising he would not get far with the furious woman, Erik said something he had never expected. "Come into my study." Without checking to see if Christine followed him, Erik led the way down the hall.

In the privacy of the study, he closed the door and gestured for Christine to take the seat opposite his desk. She sat on the edge of the seat, her back straight, as if ready to run at a moment's notice. On his way to his usual seat behind the desk, he grabbed a folder and leafed through it for a few minutes while Christine fumed opposite him. If he had hoped to make her uncomfortable by dragging out the silence, he was mistaken. It only made Christine angrier and more determined to stay.

As he read through her application, he realised just how little she could afford to lose that money. She did not earn a huge wage. Her expenses were almost as great as her pay. It must have taken her years to save that money and now she was left with almost nothing.

As he flicked a brief glance at her furious face, underlined with fear for her future, he realised that there was something about this woman that made him want to fix things. He knew how worried she must be for her future. He had been there and had no desire to force another to live through the hunger and cold nights he had endured as a poor child. He would never deliberately force anyone else to go through what he had been through.

He wanted to turn her fear into hope. The easiest way to do that would be to give her the money back. But if he did that for her, he would have to do that for everyone else. The sum that had been invested would hardly put a dint in his bank account. But something else held him back.

He needed a way to see she received her money without going back on the contract she had signed and the commitment she had made. She should have been aware of the risks when she invested with him in the first place. It was not his fault that she hadn't received the return she had been expecting.

"It says here on your application that you're an entertainer, Miss Daaé. What is it precisely that you do?" he asked slowly, breaking the awkward silence.

"I'm a singer," Christine answered nervously.

A spark of interest and a grain of an idea began in Erik's mind. "Really? Where do you perform?"

Christine hung her head in shame. "At a seedy club. You clearly have my application in front of you; my employer is there in front of you. You can stop with these stupid questions," she retorted with a spark of her earlier anger.

Erik paused. "Sing for me now, Miss Daaé."

"Now?" Christine squeaked. "You want me to sing now?"

"What better time would there be?" Erik asked calmly.

"You cannot expect me to sing A Capella," she attempted to bluff Erik as she settled back into the chair.

"Forgive me," he responded mockingly. "We'll go to the music room. There's a piano there; I'll be able to accompany you." He fixed Christine with a pointed look that she could not ignore.

So with a furious look, Christine followed Erik to the music room and seeing no way out, began to sing, knowing that her voice would not be warmed and she would be less than perfect. When he played an old Welsh folksong, Christine knew she was being tested and was determined to prove to him she could sing. Thankfully it was a song that she knew. She sang and judging by the expression of wonder that lit Erik's face she had impressed him. Whatever game he was playing, she would not let him best her.

"I simply cannot return the money you invested into the enterprise," he said at last, long after her song had finished.

"But-"

"However I'm willing to make you a deal."

Christine looked at him, untrustingly.

"I have recently taken guardianship of my niece. I have just noticed that she shows an interest in music. I'm not sure precisely what instrument; singing I suspect. I don't have time to help my niece with her music. You, however, I am sure will have the time to help her. Your voice is good. You have a natural instinct for music and its interpretation. I will trust you with her."

Christine frowned from her place beside the piano. "What does any of this have to do with getting my money back?"

"You will earn it, of course," Erik responded calmly, arrogantly. "You will help Arabella with her schooling and singing in return for a wage. Shall we say a fifteen hundred a week?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Tears in a Bottle**

**Chapter 4**

The very next day, Christine returned to the Lechmere chateau, ready for her first lesson with Arabella.

As she headed to the music room to meet her new student, she looked around her in wonder. It was like walking through a museum. Everywhere she looked there were antique vases, statues, paintings and music boxes. If she did not already know that the owner of the house was a very wealthy man, she would have been able to easily tell. Erik Lechmere clearly liked old and expensive things and was very happy to spend his money on them. He clearly enjoyed showing off his wealth with ostentatious things.

And now he was spending his money on her. It could hardly be called spending, she thought bitterly. He had bought her. Like a painting or piece of jewellery – or a prostitute – he had offered her a price and she had accepted.

Thanks to her anger, she had just made a deal with the devil. The moment she had agreed to it, she knew it would not end well. She wanted to back out, but knew instinctively that no one crossed Erik Lechmere. And after hours of thought, no matter how she looked at it, she knew she was not going to win. It was clear that whatever Erik Lechmere wanted, Erik Lechmere got.

She looked about her, desperate for a way out of the situation her anger had got her in. First her father and then her adoptive mother Mama Valerius had warned her that her temper would get her into tricky situations of which she may not be able to get out. They had warned her numerous times that she would have to face the consequences and it would be nobody's fault but her own. This was apparently one of those situations.

So, with nowhere to go and no other option but to teach Arabella to sing, Christine set about making the best of an unexpected situation.

For a week, Christine taught Arabella the basics of singing and helped her with her homework. It had taken very little time for the pair to fall into a routine and become friends. Arabella would come home from school and Christine would be waiting. Together they would have afternoon tea at the island counter in the kitchen, sitting on matching stools and telling each other about their days. Then Christine would help Arabella with any homework she had before going upstairs to the music room to practice her singing.

After her lesson, Christine would head out the front door, forced to face the reality of earning more money at the club. Along the way, Arabella, bursting with excitement and pride, would knock at Erik's study door, hoping to share her progress with him. Every day, she would ask if she could tell him about her lesson and every day he would say something to cause Arabella to close the door, her little face downcast.

Christine felt sorry for the girl who was all but ignored by her uncle. She could see just how lonely and grieving the child was. Arabella was trying to reach out to her uncle – the only person still left in her family – and he was ignoring her. That was why Christine stayed with her until she had to leave for the club. She wanted someone to be there with her at all times.

When her father died she had needed the company. If Mama Valerius had not been there, she was not sure how she would have coped dealing with her father's death as a six year old.

If only Erik wasn't so blind that he could not see how desperately the little girl needed her uncle.

* * *

><p>"I'd like a word!" Christine snapped the moment she pushed through the door of Erik's study and saw him sitting at his desk poring over a pile of papers.<p>

"Of course," he responded mockingly. "I'm sure you'd like more than one."

Christine ignored that – as she did a lot of what came out of Erik's mouth.

She could not understand how he could ignore such a vibrant and intelligent child like Arabella. But in the two short weeks she had been acting as a tutor or music teacher or nanny or friend, she had learnt almost as much about Erik Lechmere as she had learnt about Arabella. No doubt he had realised at their first meeting how much she talked and how willing she was to speak her mind.

"You need to spend time with your niece! She's missing her parents and is in need of her family," Christine informed him without preamble.

"I'm sure she doesn't need me. She has you. Don't think I haven't noticed the way that you spend more time with the girl. I only hired you to teach the girl how to sing and help her with her homework, and yet you stay for hours longer and watch TV with her. She clearly doesn't need me," Erik responded with a sharpness to his voice that Christine could not understand.

Christine slammed her hands down on the desk and leant across the space to glare at him. "She does, you idiot!"

"_Idiot?"_

"You're the last link she has to her mother and the only family she knows. And also, if you paid any attention to her, you'd see that she's missing her parents. You can't expect her to stop mourning them in a few weeks. You're also an orphan," she stated, having read the fact in a magazine article. "Didn't you mourn your parents? Didn't you just want to lie in bed and cry until you thought your tears would somehow bring them back? You have to know how she feels."

Erik shook his head and fixed Christine with a furious look. "If you must know, Miss Daaé,I never met my father so, no, I didn't mourn him. I was glad when my mother died. I was at school when she died. I was called from my class to see the dean of students. When he told me I just shrugged and asked to go back to class as if I had been informed of nothing more important than that I was going to have to get the metro home after school. I danced down the deserted hallway back to my classroom. So, don't tell me how I should be feeling, Miss Daaé. My parents didn't care about me and I didn't care about them when they died."

Christine wanted to grab Erik by the collar of his expensive shirt and shake him. She could not understand how he could be so callous about his parents and his niece's family. She suspected there was a world of suffering and pain behind his anger but could not even begin to guess at it.

Storming out of the study, Christine doubted her words had had any affect on Erik. Closing the door without looking back, she failed to see the tormented expression that crossed Erik's face.

* * *

><p><em>You're the last link she has to her mother and the only family she knows. <em>

Sleep had evaded him all night. Erik had paced the floor all night long as Christine's words echoed through his head. Usually he would open the curtains at night so the moon could shine through and light the room with its softness. But tonight, even the moon refused to shine. It was as if he had shamed it and it could not bear to see him. Feeling caged inside his bedroom, he headed outdoors to wander the dark gardens.

Christine's words prevented him sleeping. She told him in no uncertain terms that he had been ignoring Arabella and she would not allow it any longer. He was aware that he was doing it, but with his own childhood as a poor example he did not know what to do to reach out to a child he did not know. He wanted to hold her and let her cry into his shoulder, just as he had always imagined his mother doing for him. But how could he offer comfort to a stranger?

How did someone who lived alone in the darkness for most of his life reach out to a child who had only known a happy family and brightness? Yet, how could he inflict what he had gone through as a child on Arabella? He had yearned for someone to reach out to him and change his hatred against the world into trust. If someone had been there for him, things might have been different.

Somehow, he had to save Arabella from this life he had suffered.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Erik was down in the kitchen eating a plate of plain toast. In the darkness before the dawn, the only one awake in the house, Erik's bitterness at the world, and also Christine, seemed to be greater than usual. Normally he did not mind eating bland food – he could taste nothing and saw no point eating anything with flavour – but this morning it only added to his resentment.<p>

He had spent hours trying to find a way to connect with Arabella, but still he had no idea what to do. He had heard stories of fathers taking their sons out to play football, and mothers going shopping with their daughters. But he was neither of those. He knew nothing about Arabella.

When she came down to have breakfast, he found himself speechless as he struggled to find something to say. The room was so tense that he had just had to get up and walk out; he couldn't bear it. If he were brave enough to face the bright light of day, he would have taken Arabella to school so he could get to know her a little better on that short journey. Instead, his hands quivering anxiously behind his back, he had let her go, missing the opportunity.

Rather than meet her after school, Erik had ensured he was on a phone call to his lawyer. He knew Christine would arrive within minutes of Arabella's return home and the pair would spend hours in each other's company. He would have a few more hours to gather his courage.

From his study, he could hear the two at the piano. In only a fortnight, Christine had brought about a change in Arabella's voice. He didn't know how to tell her that he was proud he was of her progress. For a moment, he debated whether he should go into the music room and listen to her. That would have been a perfect opportunity to tell her she was doing well. He wanted to, but was worried that if he did, he would distract her from her singing.

He waited for the end of her lesson, waiting to see if Arabella would come to see him as she usually did. The real question was what he would do if she came to see him. Listening closely, he heard Christine's and Arabella's voices getting louder as they walked along the hallway and held his breath.

"I have to go, Bella," Christine said. Erik could hear nervousness in her voice as if she was not sure what would happen when she left. "I'll see you tomorrow, poppet." Then her heels clipped down the hallway.

The door squeaked open and Arabella's blonde head ducked around the corner. "Erik? Did you hear me singing? I think I'm making good progress. Christine says I am. Do you think so, too?"

Erik drew in a shuddering breath and gripped the arms of the chair to try and still their shaking. She had given him a perfect opening. He could comment on her music. He could say how impressed he was that her singing had progressed in such a short space of time. He could say he was proud of her and the commitment she had made to her voice. If he were brave, he would have said that.

But he was not brave. Instead he glanced briefly at Arabella and gave her a vague smile. His fingers gripped the armrests so tightly the bone began to show through the skin. "I did hear you, Arabella. Now, you must go; I have work to do."

Dejected, Arabella closed the door.

Cursing himself for being a fool, Erik returned to his work. He did not know how to be an uncle. He could not save Arabella from the fate that awaited her.

* * *

><p>"Why do you always sit here by yourself, Arabella?"<p>

Surprised, Arabella looked up from her book. It was the first time anyone had approached her during lunch. She had been so sure that no one would find her under the tree. But as she looked up at the speaker, she felt herself begin to smile. Sofi, the smartest girl in her class, was talking to her.

"I don't have anyone to play with," Arabella confessed softly, looking down at her book in shame.

"What are you reading?" Sofi asked as she sat down beside Arabella, her back also resting against the trunk of the tree. Using her finger to mark her page, Arabella showed Sofi the cover of the book. "I love those books! My favourite was the first one? What's yours?"

For the rest of the lunch hour, Arabella and Sofi spoke animatedly about the books and their favourite characters. They walked back to class together, asked their teacher to sit together and walked to the gates where they waved goodbye – but not before exchanging phone numbers.

* * *

><p>Christine had just changed out of the short dresses she was expected to wear when performing at the club into a more conservative outfit of an ankle length dress. Usually she and Lola, another performer at the club, would walk out to their cars together but with Lola unwell, Christine had to brave the crowds of drunken men on her own.<p>

She stood at the door of the staff room and checked she had all her belongings before pulling out her keys. Ready to make a quick dash through the hallway to the car park, she pulled open the door and checked to see if anyone was waiting for her. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw no one.

"Hey! Christine, right?" a slightly slurred voice stopped her for a moment. "Can you come home and sing for me?"

Christine shuddered at the suggestion and the sight of the drunken man with bloodshot eyes. "Come back another night and listen to me here at the club," she said before increasing her pace, desperate to get home.

"I have to pay to get into the club. Why don't I just pay you the cover fee instead when you come home with me?"

"No, thank you."

The man let out a growl of annoyance and reached out to grab her arm. She tried to dance out of his grip but wasn't fast enough and found herself trapped. His hand was so large his fingers circled her entire forearm. She was wondering how she was going to escape the man – he was too big for her to push away – when the giggle of a woman who was escaping the club to get home with her partner pulled the man's attention from her. Using his distraction, Christine tugged her arm from his grip and raced to her car, trying not to hear his curses.

Breathing heavily from her run and fright, Christine locked herself in her old car. Once she felt a little more in control of herself, she headed to Mama Valerius's home. The drive to Saumur gave her enough time to calm down before her adoptive mother saw her upset. She did not want to imagine the questions she would be forced to answer if Mama Valerius saw her in this state.

She pulled up outside the small house and instantly felt herself relaxing. She had spent most of her life in this little house and no matter where she lived it always felt like home. The square house had a little dormer window in the attic that Christine had always loved and large garden that Mama Valerius enjoyed tending. The paint was peeling off the bricks but it gave the house a homely feel.

However, the moment she stepped into the house and embraced Mama Valerius, the older woman knew immediately something was wrong. So, once she handed a cup of chocolate to Christine and they were seated in the brick-walled living room, their bodies sinking into the soft cushions of the lounge, Mama Valerius began her questioning.

"I was accosted outside the staff room tonight," she admitted, knowing she was entering into a conversation that they had had numerous times over the last few years.

"Christine!" Mama Valerius gave Christine a suffering look. "You need to leave that place. You're a clever girl with a good voice. You need to get out of that place. You can do so much better than that club!"

Christine sighed. "I know that, Mama V. But I can't."

Mama Valerius shook her head. "You can, Christine!"

Agitated, Christine surged to her feet and began to pace the room, her heels clicked against the tiled floor that reminded Christine of the knitted rug Mama Valerius used to have draped over the end of her bed. "I want to leave that place. I hate it but I can't. I've lost all my savings! Have you forgotten about that fiasco with Lechmere Enterprises?" She looked around the cluttered living room and picked up a figurine of a clay horse – that looked more like a cartoon Shetland pony – she had made for Mama Valerius one day at school and then set it back down.

"Of course I haven't," Mama Valerius answered calmly. "I know you lost a lot of money. My offer to lend you money still stands. Don't be proud, Christine."

"It's not up to you to fix things. It's Erik Lechmere's responsibility. He was the one who took my money and lost it. _He _should pay it back. The man's a lying, manipulative thief!"

"And you work for him."

"Don't remind me. The man is a cunning devil. He's trapped me into the role of tutor for his niece with an offer he knew I couldn't refuse. He's saved himself the effort of hiring a tutor and paying back the money he stole.

"I adore Arabella. If it weren't for her, I would have left after the very first day. The man is antisocial, mocking and peculiar. I don't want to have anything to do with him!"

Mama Valerius reached out and grabbed Christine's hand as she passed, pulling her down on to the lounge beside her. "Calm down, Christine. Arabella is your main concern. All you need to do is stay out of Mr Lechmere's way and be polite whenever you're around him."

Christine rested her head on Mama Valerius's shoulder. "I don't think it'll be that easy, Mama V."


	5. Chapter 5

**Tears in a Bottle**

I'm sorry it's been such a long time since the last chapter; life has been interesting. To make up for the delay, here is a long chapter. As always, thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and review my story.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

Erik often spent the nights worrying about Arabella. Everyday he struggled with the best way to raise his sister's daughter. He tried to imagine how Victoire would have spent time with Arabella, what they would have talked about. Would Victoire let her eat ice cream for dessert every night? Would she make sure she put a piece of fruit in her lunch for school? Would she help her with her homework? And if Arabella spoke back, what would Victoire do? Would she turn a blind eye or would she smack her daughter?

Erik had none of the answers to these questions. All he knew was that he wanted to do the right thing for Arabella – and Victoire. As he recalled the childhood he and Victoire had endured, Erik was sure that his sister would have given Arabella everything that they had lacked as children. That would be his starting point. That decided and his mind slightly eased, Erik left the moonlit garden and headed back indoors.

As he was making his way to his bedroom, Erik paused by Arabella's door to make sure she was asleep. As usual, he heard her crying and his heart broke even more at her suffering. He found it incredible to believe that a mother could be loved as dearly as Arabella loved Victoire. What else could explain the girl's nightly tears?

He had hoped that she would stop crying herself to sleep as time progressed. He wanted to help her and ease her pain in a way that no one had done for him. But what could he do for her?

Taking in a deep breath, he opened the door and silently crossed into the room. He could make out very little in the oppressive darkness of her room. Arabella was crying so hard that she was not aware of Erik until he sat down on the bed beside her. She quickly wiped her eyes, pretending to be asleep, but it was too late; Erik knew the truth.

He did not speak to her. Instead he just turned on the lamp to chase away the demons that seemed so much larger and meaner in the dark, wiped her tears and took her little hand in his. Eventually, when she was exhausted and could cry no more, Arabella fell asleep. Erik carefully pulled his hand from hers, pressed a kiss on the back of it, tucked it under the covers and left the room.

As he continued down to his bedroom, he knew somehow, Arabella had to accept that her parents were never coming back and make the most of the life she had with him. He wanted her to stop crying herself to sleep. His heart could not take much more of the suffering.

So, one day after school Erik headed down to the kitchen where he knew Arabella would be having afternoon tea with Christine before she started on her homework. The little girl was, today, happily talking to Christine, her legs swinging in midair as she ate a croque monsieur.

"I'd like to talk to Arabella alone," Erik said to Cook and Christine as he took the seat next to his niece.

Christine nodded and quickly left the kitchen but not before she gave the child a reassuring wink. For a moment she stood in the doorway, smiling happily at the uncle and niece.

Tamping down his annoyance that his staff seemed much more capable of understanding the girl than he was, Erik turned to Arabella. He thought back to his own childhood and the attention his mother had lavished on Victoire to guide this conversation.

"How was school?"

"Good," she answered simply.

He held back a sigh at her lack of information. He wasn't going to allow himself to be put off by her apathy. "Did you learn anything?"

"No."

"What about in maths? What are you learning in maths?"

"Fractions."

This time, Erik could not hold back a sigh. He was not getting anywhere fast. Shaking his head he recalled the way he would very happily answer closed-questions with only one word. Apparently it still happened. "Have you made any friends at school?"

With that opening, Arabella happily launched into a story of her new best friend and the things they would get up to during their lunch break.

"I bought something for you," he said when Arabella stopped prosing on about her friend.

"A present?" The little girl's face lit up.

Nodding, Erik pulled a small tissue paper wrapped gift from his pocket and placed it on the counter in front of Arabella. He watched with bated breath as the girl eagerly ripped through the paper to reveal a small glass bottle decorated with filigree and crystals.

"What is it?" she asked as she pulled open the stopper and smelled the bottle, wondering if it was a perfume bottle.

"It's a lachrymatory. Though most people know them as tear bottles," Erik explained patiently.

"What do I do with it?"

"It collects your tears. Different cultures and periods have used them in different ways. The Victorians used them to collect the tears when people they loved died. They would then put the cork in the top of the bottle and when the tears evaporated the sadness was over.

"But during the American Civil War when a soldier died, his wife or mother would seal the top of the bottle of wax so that the tears couldn't escape and they would always remember how much that person was loved and missed."

When Arabella started to cry at Erik's short history lesson – as he had been expecting her to do – he caught a few tears in the bottle before handing it back to her. "I thought you might like one so you can remember your parents. How you seal it is up to you."

"But if the tears evaporate, I'll forget about them," Arabella protested with a sniff.

"No, you won't," Erik assured her, wrapping his hands around her much smaller ones. "It just means you won't be so sad. You won't forget them, Bella. I know you could never forget about your parents. Sometimes we remember things we would like to forget and other times we forget what we'd like to remember. But it's these memories that will make you who you are."

Arabella looked closely at her uncle for a full minute, as if seeing him for the first time, making Erik shift uncomfortably in his seat. "What happens if I fill it up?"

"Then I'll buy you another and then another. I'll buy you a whole shelf of them if need be!"

"Do you think I'll stop being sad when I fill up the bottle?" She looked up at him with hopeful eyes that looked so much like his sister's.

Erik shrugged. He seriously doubted that catching tears in a bottle could help ease his niece's pain but he could not admit that to her. But at the moment, he would do almost anything to have her stop crying herself to sleep. "I think it will help. It's a common way to pay respects to people who have died. I'm sure your parents would be flattered you're missing them, but they wouldn't want you to be sad forever."

Giving her uncle her first smile, Arabella slid from her stool, grabbed the bottle and raced upstairs to her bedroom.

That simple act of smiling sent Erik's senses reeling. He was finally making progress.

* * *

><p>"You did well," Christine said to Erik with a smile as she pushed away from the doorway to sit down on the stool that Arabella had just vacated. She had silently observed the entire interaction between uncle and niece. "She's making wonderful progress with her music and schoolwork. I think it's all because of you."<p>

Erik just shook his head.

"_It is,"_ Christine insisted as she rested her hand on his bare arm. A thrill went through her fingers and up her arm causing her to pull away in surprise. She cleared her throat and gave him a nervous smile. "She told me you sit with her at night so she doesn't have to go to asleep on her own."

"I doubt that I'm having that big an impact," Erik commented.

"You are," she insisted, touching his arm again. Once more she felt that thrill pass through her fingers but rather than pull away, she left her hand there. She glanced up to see Erik's reaction to her touch. His pale blue eyes widened and beneath her hand, his arm began to shake. "Her father used to sit with her until she fell asleep. You're helping to keep that memory alive."

"I had no idea," Erik muttered.

Christine nodded. "She also used to sing with her mother. I imagine Arabella is a lot like your sister."

Against his will, memories of his sister came flooding back to him. He could remember sitting at the piano, trying to play songs he had heard on the radio by ear. His mother had been given the piano as a birthday present and, always in love with pretty things, refused to sell it. They would have had enough money to survive for another few months if she would have parted with the piano, but she never did. But she had willingly sold all her sheet music.

"It isn't pretty to look at," she had explained when Erik looked at her, horror in his pale eyes. "I'm never going to have time to play the piano again."

Erik could not understand why she sold the music but refused to sell the piano. To his way of thinking they belonged together. Secretly he was pleased she did not part with the instrument. Whenever Erik was alone, he would play songs he had heard, trying to be like the great musicians. When Victoire heard him play, she begged him to let her sing with him. Desperate for the company, Erik had agreed.

Rising from her seat, Christine gave Erik's arm a final squeeze. "I can see you'll be a wonderful uncle. You both just need time."

* * *

><p>"I tried calling you last night," Sofi said at school one day. The pair was sitting under their usual tree, rolling their eyes at the boys knocking one another to the ground. "It was weird. It said I called the Lechmere residence and that they screened the calls. I was so scared I hung up!"<p>

Arabella nodded. "I live with my uncle. He's a little weird."

Sofi's eyes went round with intrigue. "Why?"

"He never goes outside, all the lights in the house are really dark and he wears a mask," she finished on a whisper.

"_Why?"_

"I don't know. I think he might be trying to hide from the police. But I don't think Mama would ask me to live with a criminal."

"Maybe he killed someone and your Mama didn't know."

"Why did you try to call me?" Arabella asked after a moment of morose silence.

"I wanted to see if I could come over to sleep on the weekend. But Mama made other plans," she lied lamely.

Arabella's face dropped. She would have loved to show her friend around the chateau. But now, because of her weird uncle, she would have to spend the weekend alone.

* * *

><p>"All right," Christine said with a sigh as she sat back on the piano bench, her hands in her lap. "What is wrong? You've been flat all afternoon."<p>

"I wasn't flat, was I?" Arabella's eyes widened with horror at the thought of being out of tune.

Christine smiled and grasped Arabella's hand. "Your pitch was perfect. I just meant that you didn't have any emotion in your voice. What's wrong, Bella? Did something bad happen at school?"

"Did you know that Erik screens his calls?"

Christine started. She had been expecting a problem with friends or boys; she certainly had not expected the problem to be Erik. "He's very busy. He can't be distracted by telemarketers or people dialling wrong numbers."

"My friend tried to call last night but she was scared by the machine."

"What did Sofi want?"

"To stay the weekend. When I told her how weird Erik is, she said her mama had made other plans. I'm never going to have friends over because of my crazy uncle! It isn't fair."

Christine pushed away from the stool and wrapped her arms around the girl who was now crying. Arabella was right; it was not fair. The poor little girl spent so much time on her own. Something had to be done.

* * *

><p>"Can I come in, Erik? Too late, I'm already in," Christine muttered as she pushed open the door of the study. She was in another temper and was not going to let him put her off. She wanted Erik to realise how Arabella was feeling. If the girl was not brave enough to do it, then Christine would do it for her!<p>

Erik was on the phone and tried to wave her away, but Christine just plucked a book at random from the shelf and settled into the seat across the desk and waited. She pretended to read the book – which was in German – but she kept a close eye on Erik.

It did not take him long to realise that he would not be rid of her until she said what she wanted to say. He quickly ended the call and with a flick of his hand, gestured to Christine that she should speak.

"You still screen your calls?"

Erik waved away her concern. "Why would I stop?"

"Did it never occur to you that your niece might have some friends who would want to call? Imagine how difficult it would be for an eight-year-old when faced with that."

"I assume from your tirade that one of Arabella's friends has called."

"Yes, and she was terrified. Now Bella has missed an opportunity for her friend to come over."

Erik slammed the pen he had been using down on the desk and glared at Christine. He panicked at the thought of Arabella's friend seeing him and staring at him. He had long since learnt that children said precisely what they thought. He could not bear to hear his niece's friend call him a freak or any other horribly creative name children thought of. He ran a hand through his black hair as he took a calming breath. "What makes you think I would allow Arabella's friend to sleep under my roof?"

"Perhaps because it's also Bella's roof?" Christine suggested archly. "It is important that she feels she can bring her friends over. This is now her home. You gave up sole ownership when you took on the guardianship."

Erik sighed, knowing Christine was right. "It would make her happy, wouldn't it?" he asked softly, already knowing the answer.

"Very happy," Christine responded quickly. "It took her a while to find a friend at school and now that she has one it's important for her to spend time with Sofi and develop their friendship further."

"Very well," Erik surrendered with a sigh. "Arabella may have _one_ friend stay the night." When Christine opened her mouth to thank Erik, he held up a hand. "Don't thank me yet; there are conditions." He went through a long list of conditions that left Christine's head reeling. "And my final condition is you will be here to supervise Arabella and her friend."

Christine's face fell and the colour drained from it. "Saturday night is the busiest night at the club. They need me there!"

Erik just shook his head. "My need for you is greater, Christine."

* * *

><p>The weekend came too quickly for Christine. In her anger, it had taken her a while to realise that in supervising Arabella and Sofi, she would have to stay the night in Erik's chateau. The last thing she wanted was to sleep under the same roof as Erik Lechmere, the destroyer of her life. But she was doing it for Arabella.<p>

Thursday afternoon, Christine and Arabella sat down with Cook to prepare the menu and shopping list. Friday, Cook went out and bought the groceries. Saturday morning, Arabella and Christine – to Erik's annoyance – rearranged the living room so the two girls could lie on the floor in sleeping bags while watching movies. Mrs Dalmau had prepared a room for Christine, making sure it was aired, the sheets were clean and there was a fresh towel and soap in the bathroom.

The chateau was filled with an excitement and energy it hadn't experienced since Erik had bought it several years earlier. So, when the time came for Sofi to arrive just before lunch, Christine, Arabella, Cook and the housekeeper were all nervously waiting along the front windows, peaking out, waiting for Sofi. The only person who seemed immune to the sudden shift in atmosphere was Erik who was, as always, locked away in his study.

After lunch, a few board games, a swim in the pool and two movies Christine herded the girls up to the bathroom for showers. The girls, giggling and joking were making a lot of noise but Christine could not bring herself to quieten them. It had been so long since Arabella had laughed like this that she didn't want anything to ruin her weekend.

* * *

><p>At ten-thirty, Christine headed off to bed, leaving the girls instructions that they could stay up as late as they liked but they had to keep the noise down. She didn't hold much hope in that occurring but she was determined to try.<p>

"Cook and Mrs Dalmau still have to work tomorrow. Not everyone can sleep in," she warned, frowning down at them with her hands on her hips in a perfect imitation of Mama Valerius. "So, make sure you're quiet."

The girls had meekly promised to be quiet, and satisfied, Christine headed up to her room. She had only emerged from the shower and pulled on her pyjamas, her dark hair wet and in disarray when she heard the girls laughing and shouting.

Painfully aware that one of the conditions was that Erik was not to be disturbed, Christine raced downstairs to investigate. She skidded to a stop on the landing. From the whispers and giggles, she deduced that the girls were playing a game of truth or dare. Poor Arabella had been dealt with a dare involving the study – where Erik was currently working. She was not sure what Arabella had to do, but the last thing she wanted was either of the girls getting in trouble.

She ran down the remaining stairs and glared at the girls. Arabella had her hand on the knob and had just started to push it open when she realised that Christine was behind her.

"What are you doing?" Christine hissed. She was careful to keep her voice pitched low enough that Erik would not hear them. "You're supposed to be in your beds, quietly watching movies!"

"Playing truth or dare," Arabella answered softly, shocked at this new Christine in front of her.

"Miss Daaé."

Christine froze. Erik _had_ heard them and now she was going to hear it. She did not move, hoping Erik would think he had been mistaken and would not expect her to join him.

"Come inside, Miss Daaé; don't be frightened."

Christine swallowed nervously, suddenly feeling like she was fourteen again and Mama Valerius had just caught her skipping school. "Go back to bed," she warned the girls angrily. "Go to bed and stay there. I will speak to you when I'm done. I do _not_ want to hear a sound out of you. Is that clear?"

Arabella and Sofi nodded their heads and walked slowly and quietly back to their sleeping bags.

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Christine entered Erik's study. It was not until she was looking at the man, who was somehow still looking neat and very attractive at almost eleven o'clock at night, that she realised she was wearing only a pair of floral boxer shorts and a matching pale pink singlet. Feeling underdressed and at a disadvantage, she tried to brazen her way through.

"I shouldn't be surprised to see that you work to an ungodly hour even on the weekend!"

"Even if I wanted to sleep, there would be no chance of that. The girls are running through the house screaming." As frustrated as he was that he was not getting anywhere with his work because of the noise in the house, Erik had to admit that he enjoyed hearing Arabella so happy. That was all he wanted…for her to be happy – just as he had not been as a child. He would do almost anything to see her happy.

"You're exaggerating the situation."

"And what is the meaning of your standing outside my door like a common scullery maid?" Erik continued as if Christine had not spoken.

She bristled at being described as a maid. It was true he was paying her, but she certainly did not see herself as a servant! "We were playing a game of truth or dare. Unfortunately, I got the unpleasant task of trying to sneak into your study. I guess the girls have a very good understanding of torture."

Her temper rising even further, Christine stormed over to Erik's side of the desk and glared down at him. "You forced me into a deal with you to get my money back. You would never do the honest thing and give back what you had taken. You've made me work for it – again.

"If you plan to force me into the role of a lowly housemaid, I suppose that you will be the lord of the manor. But if you think – even for a moment – that I will sleep with you or allow you to touch me, you're wrong! I'm tired of men thinking they can buy me like a prostitute."

"Christine, you go too far!" Erik snapped, rising from his chair in one graceful, angry movement and looming over Christine before she could realise what was happening. His fingers gripped her upper arms and he pulled her so close that Christine had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. "I'm tired of being blamed for your problem. I didn't steal your money."

The moment the angry words escaped Erik's lips he wished them back. Defeated, he released Christine and returned to his chair. Knowing he would have to tell her the truth of how foolish he had been to trust his friend, his hands started shaking. He gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles turned white.

"What do you mean you didn't steal my money?" Christine asked softly as she staggered back to the chair opposite Erik and gratefully sank down. "I've lost twenty thousand Euros."

"And I've lost five million," Erik countered without any of his earlier anger. He was now just defeated. "I went into partnership with a long-time friend. I gave him the reputation of my business for his new venture which was supposed to triple the investors' – and my – income."

"I know all this," Christine muttered.

"What you don't know is that it was all a con. I didn't know until it was too late. By the time I knew, Jean had a large amount of my money, plus millions from everyday French-men and –women like you.

"My reputation is in tatters. I have worked so hard for years to make Lechmere Enterprises into something to be feared and respected, and now, because of Jean's stupidity and greed, it's almost ruined. I would never have put my name to something or taken money from people if I didn't believe I couldn't give what I had promised. I would never intentionally ruin someone's life. I have been talking to my lawyer on an almost daily basis. Unfortunately, there's almost nothing I can do."

"Of course there is! Pay the money back," Christine snapped as if it were the most obvious thing. "Then everyone will see you're doing the right thing for your investors and your reputation will be fixed."

Erik just shook his head. "I won't buy back my reputation, Christine."

She rolled her eyes. Before she knew what she was doing, Christine pushed out of her chair and walked to the other side of the desk. Perching on the edge of the desk, she reached out to Erik. Her fingertips traced his white knuckles, gradually getting him to loosen his grip on the arm.

"Pride won't help you out of this situation, Erik. If your lawyer can't help you, you might have to accept that buying your reputation is the only option."

"You don't understand, Christine-"

"You don't understand, Erik," she corrected him softly, still stroking his hand. "Not everyone can afford to lose thousands of Euros and not blink an eye. We're not all as wealthy as you. If you pay back the money, not only will you get your reputation back, but you will also be making the investors' lives easier. If you point out that it was a con that you didn't know about, and you fix Jean's mistake, you will look like a hero!"

"It's not my fault," he murmured sadly. "I shouldn't be the one to pay for Jean's mistake. I still hope he'll do the right thing and return the money."

"I know," Christine said softly. Feeling Erik's pain, confusion and injustice at the world, she reached out and cupped his cheek, surprising them both. "But that's the price you've got to pay for giving the scheme your name. The world isn't always a fair a place, Erik."

He muttered something under his breath that Christine could not hear and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"I need to check on the girls. Go to bed, Erik. You'll feel better after a good night's sleep." Her fingers gave his cheek a final caress and then she escaped from the room.

* * *

><p>Christine said he would feel better if he slept. She was, of course, right. Except that he couldn't sleep. Instead of sleeping, he wandered the paths of the moonlit garden, taking solace in the peace and darkness.<p>

The night time world was soft and forgiving. It was completely different from the cruel, bright world of the day. In the dark, unable to see clearly, he was forced to rely on his other senses and was more aware of his surroundings. He could hear the soft chirp of the crickets. He could feel the warm summer breeze and the silk petals of the roses. Here, in the dark of his garden, he could let his mind wander and his muse take hold of him.

He stopped and stared as the moonlight made the pool sparkle. He kept playing their conversation over in his mind. He could recall every angry word and look Christine gave him.

But what came to mind easier – and with more pain – was the way she had looked at him, her eyes filled with concern and understanding. When she had touched him, as if she wanted to take away his pain, he knew he was lost.

He had only hired her to keep his niece out of his way and to prevent her from taking him to court and yet in the month she had been here Christine had created a place in his home that he knew he would feel when she left. Instinctively, he knew she would not leave until she had her twenty thousand Euros. That was what she wanted and she would stay until she had it. He had Christine by his side for another two months. But after that, he wasn't sure what she would do.

That thought sent Erik into a panic and with his hands gesturing wildly as he considered and discounted several possibilities, he walked agitatedly along the path only to stop in front of Christine's window.

Somehow he would make her stay.


	6. Chapter 6

**Tears in a Bottle**

Hello everyone! I'm back! I know it's been years (and years) since I've updated this story, but I'm getting back into my love of fanfiction and, of course, Phantom. This means that I'll be posting a lot more regularly and finishing this story for myself and most importantly, all my readers. So, please get to know this Erik and Christine again, and enjoy their story.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

While Erik restlessly paced the garden and Christine slept lightly in the unfamiliar bed, Arabella happily slept on the floor beside her best friend. She was so tired that she was asleep before Christine returned from the study. It was just as well for the girls that they looked so peaceful; Christine planned to read them a terrible scold. Instead she had shaken her head in a motherly fashion and crept up to her bedroom.

Despite what Christine thought, Sofi was wide-awake. The light from the TV gave the room enough light that she was able to make out everything. She could see the extensive range of CDs and DVDs that lined one wall, the chairs that she knew had dark blue and gold fabric and gold legs, the crystal chandelier overhead and the pieces of artwork that hung on the walls. She did not know much about art, but she knew that these were all original. Like the rest of the house and grounds, this room exuded wealth.

Rolling away from Arabella who was so at ease in these opulent surroundings, Sofi screwed her eyes shut against the tears and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

><p>The next morning, embarrassed at Erik seeing her in her pyjamas, Christine was up early with her hair neatly pulled back, her makeup in place and her legs covered in a flowing skirt. She crept through the living room, not surprised to see the girls still asleep.<p>

It was not just that Erik had seen her wearing pyjamas that barely covered her legs and arms. What mortified her was the way she reacted when Erik opened up to her and told her the truth of what had happened with the investment. It never crossed her mind that he could be lying to her. She knew, instinctively, that he would never lie to her – certainly not about something as serious as his business. She could not believe that only moments after she had insulted him she was stroking his hand and cheek like they had been lovers for years.

Down in the kitchen, Cook was bustling around as usual. The bowl of crepe batter was sitting under the windowsill to rest – and waiting for the girls to wake. Erik was at the island counter eating a slice of plain toast. The windows were covered with heavy curtains that only let slivers of light through. The whole scene gave off the image of perfect domesticity.

When Christine timidly entered the room, Erik glanced briefly up at her, uncertainty shining in his blue eyes, before turning his attention to shredding his toast into bite size pieces.

"Good morning, Christine!" Cook greeted Christine with a motherly smile. "What can I get you for breakfast? I've got crepes ready to cook or I have some brioche I made yesterday."

"Brioche and chocolate will be fine, thank you," she answered distractedly as she looked again at Erik who refused to meet her eyes a second time.

As if sensing the uncertainty in the room, Cook placed Christine's breakfast in front of her and gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll just duck out and get some berries. You don't need me in here banging away and ruining your peaceful Sunday breakfast."

Christine watched Cook head for the garden, a bowl in her hand. She wished the woman had stayed. Now she had to either talk to Erik or sit in an uncomfortable silence. What was she supposed to say to the man who, one minute she had been shouting at and the next stroking?

She dipped her brioche into her chocolate as she tried to think of something to say. She was painfully aware of Erik sitting on the opposite side of the counter. She could feel every breath and movement he made. She almost convinced herself that, even though she was not looking at him, she could feel his eyes scanning her face and body as if he remembered what she looked like in her pyjamas.

"I should be getting back to work," Erik muttered, unable to stand the silence a moment longer. He slid to his feet and headed for the door.

"Erik." Christine gently wrapped her fingers around his forearm, stopping him from leaving. "It's Sunday. You don't honestly work on Sundays, do you?"

"I compose in my free time," he explained reluctantly. "Lately I haven't had much of a muse so I need to compose when she visits."

She nodded knowingly. "That's not surprising considering the problem you have with Jean. Have you thought any more about what I said last night?"

Erik did not answer immediately, as if playing back their conversation in his mind. "You make it sound so simple, Christine. It isn't."

"Of course it is, Erik." Christine paused as she took a sip of her chocolate. "We can argue about this another time; it's too early in the morning to be discussing something like this. Will you finish your toast with me? I hate eating on my own.

"You're lucky to have that ability to compose music," Christine said once Erik had reluctantly returned to his seat. "I can sing, but I just don't have a muse the way you do."

"She's a taskmistress, Christine. She'll leave me for weeks at a time and then wake me without warning. More than one night she has kept me awake, forcing me to continue when I wanted to sleep. She came to me last night and kept me awake for hours. But she's remarkable, Christine. And beautiful." He reached across the table as if he was going to stroke her cheek in the exact manner she had last night but Cook burst through the door. Erik pulled his arm away as if he had been burnt and focused on his toast.

Cook gave the pair a sharp look and set about washing the berries before tipping them into a smaller bowl and placing them in the middle of the table so Erik and Christine would be able to help themselves. She then hurried out of the kitchen.

"Hi, Christine!" Arabella greeted Christine happily as she came down the stairs to the kitchen. She gave Erik a little wave and went back to whispering to Sofi who seemed a lot less animated than she had been the day before.

Without a word, Erik again rose from his stool. This time, Christine knew she would not be able to keep him by her side. She did however reach out to him again. Her hand grabbed for his and their fingers tangled together.

"You have to play for me sometime, Erik. If you talk this highly of your muse, I can only assume she inspires you to write great music," she pleaded, looking up at him with hopeful turquoise eyes.

"We'll see," he responded evasively before giving her hand a quick caress and fleeing the kitchen and the two talkative girls.

Watching Erik leave her, his dark head bowed, an unexpected feeling of loss filled Christine. She had no time to think of it; Arabella and Sofi were talking so much that she couldn't let her thoughts wander.

"Christine, do you think we can go for another swim before Sofi goes home?" Arabella asked as she watched Cook prepare their breakfast. "It's so hot already!"

Christine smiled at Arabella, wanting nothing more than to stretch out under the sun while the girls played in the pool. "If that's what the two of you would like to do, then of course you can!"

"Did you want to go for another swim, Sofi?" Arabella asked, so accustomed to having Cook prepare her meals for her that she didn't react when the older woman set a plate of crepes in front of her. She was so excited at the possibility of swimming, that she didn't notice the way Sofi shied away when the plate appeared.

Sofi shook her head. "I feel sick. I want to go home."

Instantly worried, Christine was on the phone to Sofi's parents to arrange for them to pick up their daughter. While she waited for Sofi's parents, Christine watched the girls, convinced that the two had had an argument. Maybe Arabella was angry at Sofi for the truth or dare debacle. One look at Arabella's happy face proved that theory to be wrong. Whatever was the problem, she was completely unaware of it.

"You can come back again when you're feeling better," Arabella said to Sofi as she waved goodbye to her. She was so disappointed that her sleepover had ended early that she did not notice that Sofi didn't wave back.

* * *

><p>Arabella's – and hence the rest of the chateau's – happy mood lasted for the rest of Sunday and until she went to school on Monday. However, rather than having her return home in a good mood after a day of recapping her sleepover with Sofi, Arabella was miserable. Her lips turned down at the corners and she clearly struggled to hold back tears.<p>

"She's being horrible to me!" Arabella cried into Christine's shoulder after she suddenly threw herself into Christine's arms. "She used to be my best friend and now she's horrible. She's calling me names and she won't sit with me at lunch."

Christine wrapped her arms tighter around Arabella and rubbed her back as her tears escalated into hiccupping sobs. Over the top of the blonde head, she looked at Erik and saw him watching her with a look in his eyes that she could not understand.

She had been in the music room with Arabella, practising her singing, when she had suddenly burst into noisy tears and thrown herself at Christine. Clearly wondering at the sudden stop in the lesson, Erik went to investigate and was faced with the sight of his niece clinging to Christine as she cried. He wanted to quietly escape from the room before Arabella knew he was there and he was forced into helping, but the look Christine gave warned him that he wasn't to go anywhere.

"It's all right, darling. It's horrible that she's being mean to you and I'm sure it's making you feel bad about yourself. But she mustn't be a very good friend if she's saying all those hurtful things to you. I don't think that's what friends do. Do you? I know my friends wouldn't make _me_ cry."

Arabella shook her head against Christine's shoulder and gave a sniff.

"If she's making you this sad, I think you need to find a new friend. I think she's jealous that you live in a castle with your uncle. Do you think you can find someone else to have lunch with?"

"Maybe," Arabella whispered weakly.

"I think that'll be a good idea! Now, sweetheart, stop your tears. Everything will look better tomorrow and you can find some new friends."

* * *

><p>Confused by his feelings, Erik hid himself away in his study. For the past two hours he had stared at the painting above the mantelpiece as if it held the explanation for his feelings.<p>

It made no sense. He was angry and annoyed at Christine. He hated the way that _his niece_ had gone to her tutor and cried on her shoulder. It should have been _his_ shoulder she cried on. He was her uncle. He was the one his sister had assigned to care for Arabella. She should have gone to him with her problem.

He had hoped they had made enough progress over the last few weeks that she was comfortable turning to him, but clearly he was wrong. He was trying to mend her little broken heart but it seemed that no matter how hard she tried, she turned to Christine before she went to him. As angry as he was at Christine, he knew he could never come between her and Arabella. Arabella would never forgive him and he could forget about ever having a relationship with his niece.

Glancing at the clock, Erik decided that Christine should have gone to the club and ventured downstairs. Hr decided it best to avoid her until he was in control of his emotions. He walked into the dining room and stopped. Christine was there with Arabella and the pair was laughing happily as they ate dinner.

Christine looked up when she saw Erik enter and her laughter quickly died down.

"You're still here?" Erik asked, trying to hide his surprise. He would have thought her long gone.

"The club is closed tonight," Christine responded calmly. Her brow wrinkled for a moment as she wondered how he could have forgotten. She never sang on Monday night.

Erik shifted, looking as if he wanted to say something more.

"Finish your dinner, Bella. I'll be back in a moment," Christine instructed before rising to her feet and brushing past Erik. She gave the outward appearance of being calm, but on the inside she was beginning to bubble with rage. Outside in the hallway, Christine turned to Erik, her brows arched. _"Well?"_

"Well what?" Erik asked softly, confused by her demand.

"What is this all about? After last weekend, I thought we might have reached an understanding. Now you're glaring at me like I've done something wrong. What have I done?" she demanded angrily.

Erik stared at her, unable to find the words to explain how he was feeling. He barely understood why he was so angry with Christine. There was no way he could put his thoughts into words.

"Is it because of Bella?" Christine took an educated guess.

"Yes!" he cried. "She shouldn't have turned to you when she was upset. I'm her uncle. She should have come to me."

It was at those words that Christine and Erik both realised that he was jealous of the bond Christine and Arabella shared. He realised that, no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to share what Christine and Arabella shared. He might be able to have a relationship with Arabella, but it would always be one of uncle and niece; never would it be two friends.

"She came to me because she's comfortable with me; we know each other well and spend a lot of time together. If you put aside your work every now and again and got to know her, she wouldn't feel as if she couldn't turn to you," she responded harshly.

Erik was speechless as he thought about what Christine had just said.

"I'm not trying to take your place," she said quietly, her anger suddenly leaving her as she placed her hand on his arm. "I could never take your place as the only family she has. But she needs you as a friend as well as an uncle and guardian."

"What do I do?" Erik asked. Christine was right. He had been leaving Christine to raise his niece and was suddenly jealous when Arabella turned to the woman he thought of as her nanny rather than himself. As annoyed as he was, he was thankful that Arabella knew she could turn to Christine. At least she had _someone_.

He owed her a lot and he had done nothing but glare at her. He could not live without her. Arabella clearly could not live without her. He did not know what would happen when the time came for Christine to leave. Arabella would be left alone. _He_ would be left alone. They had both come to rely on Christine so much that life would not be the same without her.

As he looked down at her face, which had, somehow, become so important to his niece – and himself – he felt himself drawn to her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and thank her for being there for Arabella. He did not deserve her. And yet the very thought of losing her filled him with dread.

Christine stared up at Erik, wondering why he was not speaking. She took a step closer to him, the better to see his eyes in the dimly lit foyer and understand what he was thinking. Erik hands closed convulsively around her hips as they gazed at each other, drawn together by a force neither understood.

"Spend time with her," she said finally, recalling that it was her turn to speak. "She's a clever girl. You need to get to know her. She has the most amazing voice for someone her age. I think music will be a good place for you to start. And you might as well start tonight."

"Will you stay?" His fingers flinched nervously against Christine's hips as he continued to hold her. He was not sure he would be able to manage mending the gap that had formed between his niece and himself. He needed – wanted – Christine there to guide him.

Christine smiled sadly and shook her head. Reaching up to touch his cheek, she tried to wipe away his fear. "I would only get in the way."

"Christine!" Arabella cried from the doorway of the dining room. "Christine, can we play the piano after dinner?"

Breaking apart guiltily, Christine and Erik stared at each other. In the dimly lit foyer, Erik glanced at Christine and saw that her cheeks were glowing pink with embarrassment. A glance at his niece assured him that she saw nothing of what had happened. It seemed the dim lighting in the house not only hid his deformity, but also hid the illicit caresses that he and Christine had been sharing.

"I'd love to, precious, but I have to go and visit Mama V. Maybe if you ask nicely, your uncle will play with you. I think he'll be a much better accompanist than I will ever be." She smiled reassuringly at the girl before ushering her back into the dining room. "He writes his own music, you know? Maybe he'll play something for you," she finished in a conspiratorial whisper.

Erik and Christine watched Arabella happily return to her seat at the table to finish her dinner. "What am I to do?" he whispered in Christine's ear as he grabbed her arm as she walked past him.

Christine gently touched his chest. "Just show her love and you will be fine, Erik. Your love of music will be a good place to start."

* * *

><p>Following Christine's advice, after dinner that very night Erik led Arabella to the music room. His fingers shook so uncontrollably that he was unable to sort through the pile of music he kept by the piano. Trying to disguise his fumbling, he handed the pile to Arabella, instructing her to select a piece.<p>

Her little face lit up. "Truly? I want to learn how to sing this song"- she thrust the sheet music in front of Erik's nose – "but Christine says I'm not ready yet. Will you teach me?"

Erik took the score from Arabella's hand and set it on the piano. _The Jewel Song._ His niece apparently was a lover of Gounod. Perhaps there was hope for her. If this was what inspired her, the time he spent with her would be interesting.

"We'll begin with your scales," Erik said by way of answer.

He was torn. He wanted to make Arabella happy and teach her to sing _The Jewel Song. _If learning the song would make her smile, then he would do it. He did not doubt that he could shape her young voice into that of Marguerite's, but it was not his job. He had too much respect for Christine and her role as singing teacher to go behind her back. If he had been teaching Arabella and Christine had decided – against his judgement – to teach her the piece, he would have been furious with her. He couldn't do that to her.

"If Miss Daaé says you aren't ready to learn this piece, then we have to trust her," Erik said after they had finished the scales. "You can show me what you've been practising with Miss Daaé and then I will help you play _The Jewel Song_ on the piano."

Apparently content with the deal, Arabella began to sing, proudly showing her uncle the progress she had made in a few short weeks. In thirty minutes she went from a girl who had been unwilling to go to her uncle for support to a girl who was singing with confidence, determined to make him love her with the beauty of her voice.

"You need to relax your diagrastic muscles…the ones under your chin," Erik said softly, correcting her technique as he gently tapped her under her chin.

Arabella stopped singing and laughed. "You sound like Christine! She always says that to me. She says I need more air support."

"She's a very smart woman," he responded, his admiration and respect for Christine growing even more. He had heard her sing, and knew she had an excellent voice. He just did not expect her to be such an impressive teacher – or to think the same way he did. "What does she say about your air control?"

Arabella rolled her eyes. "She says I have to sing from my diaphragm. That way I won't tense up and I can sing without trying."

Erik nodded, clearly impressed. "I don't think I could do a better than the job Miss Daaé is doing."

"She's the best!" Arabella agreed, her face breaking into a grin. "She even manages to make scales fun…unlike you."

Erik bit back a smile. That was clearly the one way that he and Christine differed when it came to singing. He believed the purpose of scales was to warm the voice whereas Christine obviously thought that the task could be fun. After almost an hour, he closed the cover on the piano. "It's time for you to get ready for bed. Your voice needs to rest, Arabella."

"Christine said you write music. Will you play something for me?" She gave him a hopeful look, her pale blue eyes – so much like her mother's – wide and innocent.

"When you no longer tense your diagrastic muscles, I will play for you. I promise."

Arabella smiled brightly at Erik's promise, instinctively knowing that he would never go back on his word. "Uncle Erik?" she began, procrastinating. "You said your parents are gone, too. Did you cry a lot? Or am I just being a cry-baby?"

Erik swallowed nervously as his fingers tried to wipe away fingerprints on the cover. He should have known better than to comment about his family with Arabella. He should have known that a young female such as herself would remember and ask questions at a later stage. It seemed that women's inquisitiveness was starting at a younger age.

"I cried a little bit," he lied. "I never knew my father so I wasn't very sad when he died. And I wasn't as close to my mother as you were to your parents so I didn't miss her anywhere near as much as you are."

"When did you stop crying?" she asked quietly.

"At the end of the week, I think." He had been informed of his mother's death on a Friday and definitely stopped crying by the end of the week. He stopped crying so quickly that he never shed a tear.

"Am I crying too much? Should I have stopped crying by now?"

Erik shook his head and gathered her little hands up into his own. "You'll stop crying when you're no longer sad. It doesn't matter if that's tomorrow or ten years from now. When you're ready, you'll stop." He raised her hands to his lips and pressed a kiss on the back of them.

Tears began to slide down Arabella's cheeks at Erik's reassuring words before she threw herself into her unsuspecting uncle's arms and hugged him tightly.

* * *

><p>For the rest of the week Erik and Arabella sang and played together after dinner. He only let her sing for a short time on the weekend, and only if she wanted; he did not want her injuring her voice. The pair was so used to being in each other's company that Erik wasn't surprised when she quietly padded into the study or music room and sat in the corner to read a book or play with a video game. She just wanted to be near him and that knowledge warmed his heart.<p>

In a short space of time, Christine had brought about so many changes to Erik's house and his relationship with his niece. She had also caused him to lose a lot of sleep. Almost every night, once the house was quiet he would leave his room and wander the gardens, contemplating the investment with Jean, his niece and her voice and, most frequently, Christine.

From his window in the study, he would watch her arrive after school and depart after the lessons everyday. Some days, those brief glances were enough to keep him going until he saw her the next day. Yet other days, it only made him want to see her even more. Most painful of all, were the days when he heard her sing. Those were the days when he realised that having Christine in his life as Arabella's tutor would never be enough.

Occasionally Christine would sing through a phrase with which Arabella was having trouble and her clear soprano voice would ring out. He hadn't realised until recently, but all his life, Christine and her voice had been his muse. Whenever he wrote music it had always been for a soprano with a voice just like Christine's.

He could see the way she was shaping Arabella's voice into a version of her own and he couldn't be happier. It was a delight to hear a younger version of Christine's voice every night. It was also a torment.

Today the two had been working on a duet and hearing Christine's voice only dissatisfied him. He wanted her for himself. He had to hear her sing again.

* * *

><p>Just before she stepped out on stage, Christine gave Lola, the closest thing she had to friend, a smile. Lola was also a singer at the club and had just finished performing her set. And now it was Christine's time.<p>

Standing in the spotlight, Christine gave the audience a quick look. There were the usual sleazes in the audience all smoking and talking loudly. But there was something different about the crowd tonight. There was a vibe, a sense of expectation that she had never experienced before. A light bulb was blown in the back corner of the room and yet Christine found herself glancing over at it as if an invisible force was demanding that she look over there.

Pushing aside her confusion, she focused on her songs. At the end of each song, some of the crowd applauded politely. And again, Christine noticed the difference. Someone was applauding with more force than the others. This was not the polite, indifferent applause. She had impressed this person. Pressing on, she glanced into the back corner once more.

Someone expected something of her tonight, more than just cheap entertainment. This person had applauded her with more than that compulsory acknowledgement was looking at her intently. She could feel his or her eyes on her. A little shock went through her.

Her voice faltered when she realised that it was the same feeling she got whenever she touched Erik. Quickly collecting herself, Christine tried to ignore the voice in her head that told her that Erik was in the audience. The man rarely ventured out from his study. He would never brave the club. No matter how badly she wanted him to see her as more than Arabella's tutor, he would never leave the house to see her perform.

"Did you think the audience was different tonight?" Christine asked Lola when she returned to the staff room.

Lola's eyes widened and she nodded her head. "You noticed it too? I thought I was being ridiculous. Maybe there was a talent scout in the audience tonight."

Christine shook her head as she began to wipe off her stage makeup. "Why would a talent scout come all the way out to Angers – and more importantly to a dump like this one?"

Laughing, Lola handed Christine a bottle of water. "You never know, Christine. It might have been a scout and he might have heard all about you. I'll see you tomorrow, I would wait for you, but I have to pick up a few things at the shops before they close."

Her thoughts still on the mysterious presence in the audience – and whether it actually was Erik – Christine closed the door and pulled off the black dress she had performed in and changed into a pink gingham dress. Just as she was buttoning her bodice, a knock sounded on the door. Expecting it to be Lola, who was always forgetting things, Christine pulled it open.

"Erik?" she gasped in shock as she quickly pulled the top of her bodice together, hiding the lace edge of her bra from his gaze. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you perform. It was beautiful. Your songs were beautiful – you looked beautiful." He awkwardly handed her a bouquet of white roses. Stepping into the room, he closed the door behind him.

Surprised, Christine accepted the flowers and raised them to her nose to smell them. "They're beautiful, Erik. Thank you."

Awkward, his hands shaking, Erik took a step away from Christine. Not used to the bright lights of the dressing room, or the lights around the mirror, Erik's squinted eyes began to water. "I had best leave you so you can get changed."

"You don't have to go," she pleaded as she reached out and stayed him. She placed the flowers down on the table, turned off the lights around the mirror and looked back to him. He still looked uncomfortable and so she turned of the overhead light. The only light came from the TV in the corner.

Again Erik looked down at the place where he could see a hint of lace peeking out from between the two pieces of Christine's bodice. "No, I need to go. I shouldn't have come, but I wanted to see you perform. I shouldn't have come."

Christine smiled when she heard the torment and confusion in his voice. She could see how uncomfortable he was out in public. He clearly rarely ventured out of his house and yet tonight, because he had wanted to see her, he had. Stepping up to him she placed both of her hands on his arms. "You were in the back corner, weren't you? At the table where the bulb is blown?"

Erik nodded and folded his hands behind his back so Christine would not see their shaking.

"I thought so. I felt myself drawn in that direction. I felt you in the audience," she explained when Erik looked at her in confusion. "I can't explain it but I felt drawn to that direction. It was you, Erik."

Even more uncomfortable with what she was saying, Erik started to step out of the room. Christine's hands fell to her side as he stepped from her grip.

"Thank you, Erik," she said softly reaching out to him again.

"For what?" he asked in confusion.

"For coming to see me. For bringing flowers as if I were a respected singer rather than a singer at a seedy club. For treating me with respect when so many other men don't. Do you have any idea how many men wait outside my door to try to hit on me? I have been assaulted so many times…It's nice to know that not all men are sleazes."

Erik was horrified at the image Christine presented. "Why do you stay here? I am paying you enough that you could easily leave this place. Why don't you?"

"I like singing. I wouldn't want to leave Lola here alone. She's a self-taught singer and doesn't think she has many options for her future when it comes singing. I know if I left she would feel trapped here. I couldn't leave her here to cope with the drunks on her own."

His hands rose unbidden to touch her cheek in a gentle caress. "What about you, Christine? What about what you need?"

She just shrugged, uncomfortable with the questioning. She yearned to get away from this place. She hated it and wanted to escape. That was supposed to have happened from her investment in Lechmere Enterprises. But she was feeling so charitable towards Erik that she did not want to ruin the moment by bringing up the issue of her money.

To avoid answering Erik, she pulled picked up her bag and flowers and headed to the door. With her free hand, she pulled open the door and gestured for Erik to follow her out the hallway. She had only taken one step out of the staff room when a drunken man approached her. She was so distracted by Erik's presence behind her that she was not prepared for the man waiting for her outside her door.

He rushed at her and pushed her against the wall in his attempt to kiss her. Helpless, Christine dropped her flowers on the floor as she tried to push him away. She tried to turn her head away from the man's lips and escape his alcoholic breath. His lips left a wet trail across her cheek.

"Don't turn away from me, you slut," he muttered, his breath causing tears to spring to Christine's eyes. "You think you can prance about on the stage and then push me away just like a hooker on the street. I'm a paying customer! Do you have something against my money?"

Christine blinked back tears. This wasn't the first time she had endured such unwanted and horrible advances. She hated it and she was tired of being treated like a prostitute who could be bought.

Just when she was convinced that she would never be able to escape the drunken man's clutches, he was unceremoniously hauled from her and thrown into the opposite wall. Erik muttered a few angry words at the man, hauled him to his feet and shoved him away from Christine who was still pressed against the wall, her eyes screwed shut, too shaken to move.

Once the man had staggered out of the hallway, Erik rushed to Christine's side. He touched a hand to her arm, actively seeking to touch her for the second time that night. His touch jolted Christine from her shock.

"Are you all right?" he asked, unable to bring himself to pull his hand from her arm. "When I find that man I promise you I'll make him pay for what he did to you. How could he even _think_ of comparing you to a streetwalker?"

"No!" Christine gasped, clinging to his hand and pulling him back to her side. "Please, don't leave me; stay with me. Will you walk me to my car?"

She looked up at him, her turquoise eyes pleading. Christine looked so distraught by the man's actions that Erik could do nothing more than agree to her request. He bent to retrieve her flowers, and handed them back to her before guiding her through the hallway, through the crowd of people to the car park, his hand resting protectively on the small of her back.

"Didn't I tell you that the men here aren't always the best behaved?" she tried to joke. Her hands still shook, making it hard for her to pull her keys from her bag.

Eventually she found them and unlocked her car.

"Are you certain you'll be okay to get home?" Erik asked, looking down at her with concern, his black hair in disarray. "Come back to my house for some tea. When you're feeling better you can go home."

A hysterical laugh bubbled from Christine's lips as Erik called his chateau a house. But before she could politely refuse his offer, she found herself nodding. With a thankful glance, Christine slid into his car.

* * *

><p>A short time later, Erik and Christine were sitting in the music room, a pot of tea in front to them as <em>A Funeral March for a Marionette<em> played softly in the background. Erik had noticed that Christine's shaking had long since stilled but anger at the man's treatment of Christine bubbled beneath his calm surface.

"And you say that's not the first time something like that has happened?" Erik asked suddenly, disturbing the peaceful silence that had enveloped them.

Christine jumped in surprise at the vehemence of his voice, sloshing tea over the rim of the cup. "It's a regular occurrence," Christine admitted. "Lola and I usually leave together so that doesn't happen."

"I think you should leave that place. Yes," Erik muttered to himself, his hands dancing around as he thought. He wanted Christine with him for every minutes of the day. He wanted her beside him. She did not deserve to be in a place like that. Knowing that it would make Arabella happy decided it. "You need to leave the club. I will give you another five hundred Euros a week to live here and be Arabella's nanny."

Christine raised her brow at Erik's announcement. "Are you trying to buy me, Erik? I'm not something that can be bought. And you certainly can't expect to get your own way by buying people off all the time," she protested, however her voice was lacking its usual heat.

"I don't see why you would object. I will increase your wage for you to live here. You can leave the club and save money on rent. It is clear to me that Arabella is attached to you. It is the perfect arrangement for all."

It would also mean that Erik would be able to spend more time with Christine. He could have her under his roof. Maybe if she wasn't always rushing off to the club they would be able to spend more time together and he could find a way for her to love him.

"What about Lola? I don't want to leave her there."

Erik nodded. He had expected something like that and fortunately had an answer. "I know someone who owns a piano bar. He'll employ Lola; he owes me a favour."

Christine paused, wondering if this was all too good to be true. In the end she just sighed. "Fine. But I'm doing this for Bella. And I'm not giving up my apartment. I'll stay until my lease runs out and decide if I'm going to go back to my apartment or stay with you."

Erik just nodded, too pleased that she had agreed to say anything else.


	7. Chapter 7

**Tears in a Bottle**

Thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed Tears. Your responses and support is amazing.

This chapter is perfect for Valentine's Day. I recommend you find some chocolate – or French pastries would work really well too – and enjoy this chapter. Happy Valentine's Day!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

It took little time for Erik, Christine and Arabella to fall into a routine. After dinner every night, Erik and Arabella would retire to the music room for an hour to sing and develop their bond through their love of music. They would have performed longer if Erik had not been aware that Arabella needed to get some sleep for school the next day. So, Erik would walk her up to her room, kiss her forehead good night and leave her to go to sleep.

During the days, Christine spent her time moving her clothes and belongings into the room she had used when Sofi had stayed the night or stretching out in the sun while she read. For some reason – one she did not want to consider too closely – Christine refused to pack up all of her apartment. She thought it ridiculous to be paying rent on a place she wasn't even living in, but she wanted it there just in case she needed it.

While Erik and Arabella were in the music room, Christine would often sit in her room reading or, occasionally, would drive to Saumur to see Mama Valerius. When she was in the chateau she would tuck Arabella in her bed, with Erik standing in the doorway like a protective father.

From there, Erik and Christine spent time together either in the music room or in the study. They would just sit next to each other, often talking and occasionally touching. When he was composing, Christine would leave Erik alone to work on his music. This was becoming a frequent thing now that Christine was in his life. They were just like a family. As they spent time together, getting to know each other, Erik and Christine began to feel their connection growing stronger and deeper.

Arabella's delight upon hearing that Christine was moving in was so extreme that Erik decided then that he would make it his duty for the rest of his life to see her that happy. With that new promise in mind, Erik went in search of Arabella on Saturday morning. He found her in the living room.

She was lying on her stomach on the floor, watching morning TV, sunlight streaming in through the windows. Wincing at the bright light, Erik quickly closed the curtains before going to sit on the floor beside Arabella.

"What did you and Mama do on weekends?" he asked when the ads were on so he wouldn't interrupt her viewing.

"We'd go swimming, play board games or make cakes together. Sometimes she would take me to the beach. Mama, Papa and I all love macarons! So most weekends we'd go to Ladurée and get a couple to eat on the steps of the Madeleine and then take some home to eat after dinner!"

Erik saw the way Arabella's face lit up as she spoke about her favourite treat and knew that, despite his reluctance to venture outdoors, he would make the trip to Paris for macarons. Wanting to continue that happiness, he took in a deep, unsteady breath and offered to take her to get macarons.

"Really? Really, really?" Arabella asked in delight as she tried to sit up quickly. Her pale blue eyes danced with enthusiasm as she surged up on her knees so she could be level with her uncle and look him in the eye.

"Of course," Erik replied before he could talk himself out of it. "But before we can go, you need to get dressed. Once you're ready we will leave."

Excited about her trip to the city, Arabella ran upstairs to quickly change from her pyjamas. Shaking his head at her youthfulness, Erik followed her to the base of the stairs to wait.

"We're going to Paris," he informed Christine softly when he saw her cross the foyer from kitchen, his nervousness clear in his voice. "Please, will you come with me? I'd feel a lot better knowing that I had your support."

Christine shook her head sadly and cupped Erik's face in her hands. "You can do this on your own. You need to have more faith in yourself. Victoire clearly trusted you with her daughter. I doubt she would have given you guardianship of Bella if she didn't think that you can handle it."

"Are you sure you can't come?" Erik tried one last time.

"You will be fine. It'll be a wonderful opportunity for you and Arabella to bond. Although," she warned him, her turquoise eyes sparkling with laughter as she gently ran her fingertips over his cheeks, "I want you to bring some macarons home for me."

So, with Christine politely refusing to join them on their trip, Erik and Arabella set off for the capital. Thankfully it was an overcast day, with rain threatening to fall at any moment. The sun was unable to shine through the clouds and Erik didn't have to worry about the bright sunlight that could blind him as he tried to drive.

"What did you and Mama do to pass the time on long drives?" Erik asked as he turned the car towards Paris.

"We'd play games like _I Spy _or _I Went to the Shops._ Sometimes she'd turn the radio up really loud and we'd sing along."

Erik smiled as he imagined Arabella and Victoire singing out of tune as they drove along. This was something he could never imagine his mother doing and so it only seemed to make sense that Victoire would have done this with her daughter.

"How do we play those games you mentioned?" he asked not sure what he was about to get involved in. He tried to remember a long car drive with his mother and sister. The only one he could recall involved his mother shouting at him almost the entire drive because he did not want his window down and so the car got stuffy on the summer's day.

"It's easy! I can teach you!"

After quickly explaining the rules of the game, it took Erik little time to realise just how tedious playing the memory game with an eight-year-old could be. However, after he picked the most random thing he could think of to add to their list of ever increasing items to remember – a cyanotype – Erik spent the rest of the ride thinking up peculiar things to try and stump Arabella and explaining what the items were.

"A spherulite" Arabella gasped, laughing at the sound of the word. "You just invented that! What is it?"

"It's a mass of radiating crystals that are found in some rocks," Erik explained very seriously, even though his lips threatened to pull up in a smile.

Again Arabella laughed. "You made that up!"

"I swear I didn't," Erik protested, laughing at her outraged expression. "It's a real word and that's its real meaning. You can check the dictionary when we get home if you don't believe me."

"I will." Arabella began the list of weird and wonderful items but only managed to get half-way through it. Laughing, she threw her hands up in the air. "I give up!"

A victorious chuckle escaped Erik's lips before he could prevent it and he earned himself a glare from Arabella.

"You did that on purpose! You knew I wouldn't be able to remember all your big words! I'm going to tell Christine on you!"

After almost three hours of playing games and singing – and a lot of laughing – Erik pulled into a park at the metro Condorde and walked the short distance to Rue de Royale. Outside Ladurée, he and Arabella stared into the window, gazing in wonder at the beautifully decorated choux pastries and macarons and the beautiful guilt boxes. Taking their fill of the windows, Erik and Arabella pushed open the pale green door and entered.

Erik flinched with discomfort when he was aware of the staff staring at him. Fortunately, the restaurant was almost empty so there were few people to stare and make him uncomfortable. After glancing at the menu of more than a dozen macarons, Erik looked at Arabella.

"You know which are best. I want you to order three each for Christine, yourself and me." There was little point in deciding for himself since he could not taste anything. It would not matter what he chose. The liquorice would taste much the same as the salty caramel.

After a few minutes of indecision, Arabella had nine macarons in a small paper bag. She grabbed her uncle's hand and pulled him to the steps of the Madeleine. "I got you the ones Papa always got. His favourite was a caramel with salty caramel butter. I hope you'll like it."

Erik smiled at the effort she was making and the fact that she had decided to buy him what her father usually chose. It boded well for the way she saw their relationship. "What did you get?"

"Chocolate, vanilla and raspberry! I got Christine chocolate, blackcurrant violet and rose. Do you think she'll like them?" she asked uncertainly as she dropped onto the steps of the Madeleine, in the midst of bright flowers before taking a bite out of her vanilla macaron.

"I'm sure she will." Erik uncertainly sat on the step beside Arabella. Although he was not religious – as a child he had blamed God for his deformity and the way his life had been shaped – but now he blamed mankind in general – he was sure it was sacrilegious to sit on the stairs of a church. He was so nervous at being out in public in the middle of the day that he could hardly eat; his throat was so tight.

People walked past and stared at him. He could see them, staring and wondering why the freak was sitting there with his face covered with a mask. He did not doubt that a few even wondered how Arabella came to be in his care. They probably thought that he had kidnapped her. The masked oddity could only find companionship if he stole it; no one would be willing to spend time with him.

When an old lady stared unashamedly at his mask Erik felt his rage build. A red film covered his sight. This outing with Arabella reminded him why he hated venturing from the safety of his chateau. It also reminded him why he hated people. He would have run to the car and sped the entire way back to Angers if Arabella had not put her hand on his arm and smiled.

"Christine wears rose perfume so I thought that she'd like the rose macaron," explained after a few moments of silence. Her touch and gentle voice pulled Erik from his dark thoughts and back to the present.

"You're probably right," he agreed as he bit into the macaron and forced himself to appreciate the different textures of the soft biscuit and the sauce-like filling. Drawing in a shuddering breath, Erik wished he could completely share this joy with his niece.

After they had finished their macarons, with pleading eyes, Arabella had begged Erik to take her to the Paris Doll Museum. Knowing it would make her happy, Erik gave in. Passing through the shop on the way out, Erik had seen Arabella admiring a doll draped in a pink silk dress and had impulsively bought it for her. Her delight at receiving the doll was similar to Christine's delight at receiving the flowers. She hugged the doll to her breast with one arm and hugged Erik's with the other.

Erik had never seen Arabella so happy. She spoke the entire way back to Angers, almost without pause and informed Erik several times how much she loved Kate, her doll, and how happy Kate was to be going home with them.

The knowledge that he had been the reason behind her happiness filled Erik with a happiness of his own. He never would have thought that a trip to Paris for some macarons and a look at dolls could make her so happy. Now he would do anything to see her happy.

* * *

><p>Erik's life was almost perfect. Christine seemed content with her new home, position and salary. Since that night in his study – and more recently when he gave her the flowers at the club—her attitude seemed to have softened towards him. And that trip to Paris had ensured that Arabella was happy and comfortable living with her uncle. She adored her new doll and carried her with her through the house. She slept with Kate and reluctantly left her on her bed when she went to school. However, not everyone was as happy.<p>

Those who Jean had stolen from still struggled. They, like Christine, had lost their savings and were forced to save money where they could. They stopped going out, they stopped eating out at cafés and restaurants, they spent less on presents and they bought nothing for themselves. Not only were they suffering, but Angers, where most of the investors lived was also suffering.

They still tried to call Erik and demand their money back yet none of them got through. He still screened his calls. No one was able to find out what had happened to their money.

Despite this discontent, some people accepted that these things happened when investing and realised that nothing could be done about it. They just tried to work twice as hard and twice as long. Others – and there were only a few of these – refused to be ignored and would not go away.

* * *

><p>"I don't care about the Revolution," Arabella whined as she sat with Christine at the island table in the kitchen. "It happened ages ago!"<p>

Christine frowned at Arabella, feeling very much like Mama Valerius. Now she knew how her adoptive mother felt trying to fill the role of mother, carer, teacher and friend. It was a difficult role but she was beginning to believe that she was managing. If Mama Valerius could do it, there was no reason why Christine could not also.

"You should care," Christine informed Arabella firmly. "Those events have shaped France into the country it is now. If the monarchy wasn't overthrown, we could still have kings now. The Napoleonic wars may never have happened and Europe would be a very different place."

"Arabella, I hope you're listening to Miss Daaé," Erik warned as he entered the kitchen for something to eat. He raised his hand to block out the sun, which was streaming through the curtains that Christine had pulled open since Erik rarely ventured out of his study before dinner.

Christine just smiled at Erik and that commanding, fatherly tone he took without even realising it. "Bella and I were just discussing the relevance of the events of the Revolution on today's society. Weren't we, Belle?"

Arabella quickly agreed with Christine, even though, secretly, she had no idea what Christine had just said.

"France is very different because of what happened more than two hundred years ago," Christine continued, looking at Erik as he moved silently around the kitchen as he prepared a cup of tea and toasted brioche.

Arabella heaved a sigh and picked up her pencil. She knew she would not be able to get out of her homework when Christine took that tone with her.

"What's your first question?" Christine asked the moment she realised Arabella had surrendered.

"Why were the peasants angry with Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette?" Arabella read from the piece of paper her teacher had given her. "Because she was silly! They couldn't afford bread but she told-"

"You better not say anything about cake!" Christine warned with a grin as she pointed a playful finger at her. "There's no evidence to suggest Marie-Antoinette said anything about eating cake. She was young but she was quite sensible. She wasn't happy with Louis and so she spent money on jewellery and clothes. This lavish spending made the people who couldn't even afford to buy food for their families angry. Despite this, it is unlikely she would ever have said something so callous."

Arabella's eyes widened – both at what Christine had said and the fact that she had half her answer! "You know a lot about Marie-Antoinette."

"Marie-Antoinette fascinates me," Christine confessed. "I studied the Revolution when I was about your age and I felt so sorry for poor Marie-Antoinette. Since then I've read all I can about her and the Revolution."

With a cup and a plate in his hands, Erik turned to Arabella. "You're in very capable hands, Arabella. Make sure you pay attention to Miss Daaé; she knows what she's talking about." Just before heading back to his study, he saw Christine smile at him, touched by his compliment.


	8. Chapter 8

**Tears in a Bottle**

I'm sorry for the delay between chapters – I don't know what's happened to the last few weeks – but the good news is that the next chapter is ready and waiting to be read. Thank you goes not only to those who've enjoyed _Tears _enough that you've reviewed/favourite/followed it, but also to everyone who's read it! You're all fantastic!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

He was in love with Christine and had been for a while. Erik knew it and just as day following night, he knew he couldn't stop himself. Everyday she made his life a little easier, Arabella's a little happier and his house a little homelier. If it had not been for Christine he might not have been able to open his heart to Arabella when she desperately needed his love. He had always thought himself impossible to be loved and love in return, but with Arabella and Christine in his life he was beginning to see that he had been wrong. His love for Arabella opened his heart enough to love Christine.

Somehow, he wanted to show her how much she meant to him. He paid her enough already and he did not think that she would be impressed if he gave her a raise. How could more money show her that he loved her? After several hours of thought, he decided that a present would be best. That way she could remember him every time she looked at it. It was perfect.

"How was your day?" Erik asked, glancing up when Christine rejoined him in his study after they had put Arabella to bed.

Christine just shrugged as she sat in her usual chair opposite Erik's desk. "You don't want to hear about my day. It wasn't interesting."

"I do," he protested. "I'm interested."

She gave a short, disbelieving laugh. "You're trying to tell me you, the man who runs a multi-million Euro business, who holds the fate of thousands of people in his hands, claims to find my life interesting? You really think my life as a tutor to your niece and former singer in a seedy nightclub is exciting?" she asked in absolute disbelief.

Erik set down his pen and walked to the other side of the desk and crouched in front of Christine. "I am interested, Christine. I care about you and I'm interested in your life. How did your session with Arabella go?"

Christine smiled proudly, forgetting her reluctance to bore Erik with her life. "Bella's working on an audition piece." She saw Erik's surprised expression; clearly he knew nothing about her plans to audition for the show. She continued, "She's doing well."

Pleased with news of his niece's progress, Erik pushed away from Christine's side and returned to his desk. He quickly retrieved a box from the bottom drawer, returned to Christine and, embarrassed, held it out to her.

"I bought this for you."

Once the box was in her hands, Erik's hands fluttered nervously in front of him, waiting to see her reaction. The last time he had given anyone a present had been almost thirty years ago – and it hadn't been received as well as he had hoped.

It was Mother's Day and all the kids in his class were gloating about the presents they had got their mothers. Their fathers had taken them out to get perfume, jewellery or books. With no money to buy anything, Erik made a little box from paper, decorated it with hand drawn roses and, just before he was ready to show his mother, he captured the most beautiful butterfly he could find.

He imagined the butterfly fluttering free from the box to the delight of his mother when she lifted the lid. She had always liked pretty things. What could be prettier than a brightly coloured butterfly flying free of its box? Maybe if he gave her something pretty, she wouldn't think him so hideous. Maybe then she could begin to love him despite his face and the scars where he had accidentally tipped boiling water over his body as a toddler.

Her eyes agleam, Erik's mother opened the box to reveal a dead butterfly. Instantly furious at being given a dead insect, Erik's mother flew into a rage and threw him out of the house. Before he went running for the safety of the garden, Erik stopped to tenderly scoop up the little butterfly in his hands.

Five-year-old Erik was the only one to mourn the death of that brightly coloured butterfly. With loving hands he buried it next to the plants where he had found it and placed a flower bud over its grave. Not only did he learn he could never do anything right where his mother was concerned, he also realised he would never keep a pet. He could never cage an animal that deserved to be free. He blamed himself for the butterfly's death.

Shaking off his thoughts, he glanced at Christine, hoping she would be nothing like his mother.

"Do you like the earrings?" he asked, gesturing to the jewellery box she held in her hands. He took a nervous step away before she could react badly. He didn't want to be near her in case she chose to lash out at him.

In awe, Christine simply nodded.

"Are you sure? You did say you liked Marie-Antoinette, didn't you? It wasn't Empress Josephine?"

"It was Marie-Antoinette. I'm surprised you remembered."

Erik smiled softly, pleased. "I bought them off a collector."

Her eyes suddenly wide with surprise, Christine looked at Erik. "These were really hers? They're not a replica?"

"Of course not," Erik retorted, clearly affronted at the suggestion.

"It must have cost a fortune."

"If you can honestly swear that you like it, it will be worth every cent."

Reverently setting the box on the table, Christine threw her arms around Erik's neck. "I love it. It is the best present I have received in a _long _time. I cannot believe you remembered that I liked Marie-Antoinette."

It took Erik a few shocked moments to realise Christine was hugging him and he was supposed to hug her in return. He placed his hands on her waist, certain she could feel their trembling.

Delighted with her gift, Christine lightly kissed Erik's lips. _She kissed him._ Shocked, she pulled away from him, expecting to see rage or embarrassment in his pale eyes. All she saw was surprise. Kissing him quickly on the cheek, she stepped out of his arms.

"It's amazing, Erik. You shouldn't have spent so much money on me, though." She was relieved he chose one of her more simple pairs earrings; she shuddered to think how much it would have cost him to buy one of her larger, more ornate earrings.

"I should have spent more. I would give you everything I owned just to see you happy."

Shocked at his words and the vehemence with which he uttered them, Christine stared at Erik, speechless. Then when the silence became too much, she grabbed her jewellery box to her breasts and hurried out the door.

With the feeling of her body against his, her hips under his hand and her lips against his, Erik knew then that he had meant what he said. Christine probably thought he was flattering her, but he would give her everything. Before he gave her everything, he wanted to give her something else so he could feel a part of her again.

* * *

><p>Setting her new jewellery box down on the table by her bed, Christine collapsed into the comfort of her mattress. He had meant it, Christine realised as she took a shuddering breath. Erik would give up everything to see her happy. She shook her head. He believed he could buy happiness. He thought he could buy loyalty, so why could not he buy happiness?<p>

For a while she suspected that Erik was beginning to fall in love with her, but hearing him say that he would give her everything confirmed it. As a girl she had dreamt of finding someone who would do anything for her. Now it seemed she had, yet it did not feel right.

She did not want Erik to buy her happiness, nor did she want to feel compelled to stay with him out of appreciation. Twice already he had trapped her with his offer of money. She would not have normally agreed to his offers! Now, she was worried she was going to stay and fall in love with him because he had bought it. He had bought her presence in his house, why could not he take it a step further and buy her love?

She was not sure if she loved him. She respected him and enjoyed spending time with him, but she was not sure if it was love.

She had dreamt of finding a man who would give her presents and make her happy. But now that she had apparently found such a man, she was not sure that it could make her happy. She just wanted a man to love her with all his heart – never mind about presents. Her childish illusions were forgotten.

* * *

><p>Erik pushed the new lachrymatory in front of Arabella. He had noticed the way she had stomped inside after school and had hardly spoken a word to Christine. Something had happened at school and the girl was clearly trying to keep in all her pain and her need to cry. Thank goodness he'd had the sense to buy several tear bottles. She would fill these up in no time!<p>

"What happened?" Erik asked softly as he looked at her from the other side of the kitchen table.

"She's spreading stories about me now!" Arabella gasped out between sobs. "Sofi says that Mama and Papa are not really dead. She thinks I'm just pretending so I could live in the chateau. She's telling everyone that you're hiding from the police because you've killed someone."

Christine sat on the other side of Arabella, rubbing her back in soothing circles as she cried. She looked at Erik in surprise.

"She's lying, of course, Arabella," Erik informed her calmly. "I have never deliberately hurt anyone and I've _never_ killed anyone before. You shouldn't listen to her."

"But everyone at school thinks I'm being looked after by a murderer and they're scared of me. No one sits with me at lunch."

"I doubt everyone thinks that, Bella," Christine said quietly, logically. "I'm sure there are a few people who don't believe what Sofi is saying. You need to find them and spend time with them. They will be much better friends than Sofi was."

Erik nodded. "Chris- Miss Daaé has already said that if Sofi was a true friend, she wouldn't be so mean to you. Friends try not to make each other cry."

Arabella gave a nod, unaware that Erik had almost called Christine by her first name – something he never did while around his niece. Christine gave Erik a warning look before quickly glancing at Arabella to see if she had noticed.

"You shouldn't listen to Sofi," Christine repeated Erik's earlier words when she realised that Arabella had been too busy wiping her nose on her sleeve to notice Erik's slip.

Erik nodded in agreement. "Do you feel better?" he asked as he glanced at Arabella's tearstained face.

Arabella gave a little nod.

Erik tapped the lachrymatory in front of Arabella. "I think you should leave _this_ bottle unstoppered so the tears can evaporate and all your sadness will go with it."

Taking the bottle up in her hand, Arabella raced out of the kitchen to put the bottle with the other one that Erik had bought her.

Alone in the kitchen, Erik and Christine glanced at each other in surprise and smiled.

* * *

><p>With the pain of her parents' deaths slowly easing Arabella was gradually turning into the happy girl she used to be. She was settling into school. She was blooming under Christine and Erik's care. Erik went out of his way to see her happy. Every week he had Cook make a different flavour of macaron. With the memory of her delight at receiving the doll at the museum still in his mind, Erik searched the internet for dolls he could buy Arabella. He would give her dolls and books and games and clothes. Anything to see her happy.<p>

Wanting to repay her uncle for all the happiness he was giving her, when she woke up in the morning, Arabella always made sure all the curtains were shut so the sun would not hurt Erik's eyes. When she saw how touched he was by that simple act, she set about doing it as often as she could. Then, determined to make him happier still and to more frequently receive the smile and thanks he always gave her , Arabella set about making sure his study was tidy, his music was neatly arranged and there was always a pen and paper waiting for him by the piano.

However, when Erik suggested that Arabella invite some of her classmates over on the last weekend of summer so they could make use of the pool before the weather became too cold to swim, Arabella knew she would never be able to make her uncle as happy as she was now. She didn't think she would have many friends turn up, but she was going to ask everyone. For the first time in her life, she was looking forward to the end of summer.

* * *

><p>With all of the favours and gifts that Erik and Arabella were constantly exchanging, Christine was beginning to feel like a third wheel. She was beginning to understand the jealousy that had consumed Erik when he saw Arabella turn to her when she was upset. She was being ridiculous, she repeatedly told herself. Things were the way they were meant to be. Erik and Arabella were supposed to be getting along as they were. She was just the nanny and deserved nothing more than Erik's respect. Yet, she found herself wanting more.<p>

Erik wanted to see her happy again. He wanted her to be so moved that she kissed him. If giving her gifts were the only way, then he would do it. But deep down Erik knew that he would never be content with a quick kiss of thanks. He wanted her to kiss him because she loved him...everyday.

It was a school day and with Arabella at school, Erik and Christine were left alone. So, in an attempt to get what little attention she could from Erik, Christine joined him in the study and quietly read while he worked.

"I have something else for you," Erik said with boyish delight as he handed Christine a small parcel wrapped in tissue. He handed them to her over the desk, pleased to have a reason to no longer pretend to work. How could he pay attention to the complexly worded contract when he had Christine sitting in front of him?

"These are Marie's," she stated in a whisper when a pair of diamond earrings fell into her hand.

"They are original. Let me put them on you." He quickly crossed to her side of the desk and held out his hand.

"No." She rewrapped the earrings in the paper before placing them in his hand and folding his fingers around it.

Furious with himself, Erik viciously pulled his hand away from Christine and threw the earrings across the room.

"No one ever likes what I give them!" he said angrily to himself, his heart clenching as he paced to the other side of the room so he couldn't accidentally hurt her. Just as suddenly as his anger arrived, it deflated, leaving Erik collapsed on the floor.

Shocked at the sudden shift in his attitude, Christine raced to his side. "I adore them, Erik," she assured him quietly. "I cannot even begin to imagine the trouble you had trying to find them." She knelt in front of him and held his face in her hands. "I just worry that you think you can buy happiness. You can't buy it, Erik, and I don't want you to try to buy me. Some of the best presents don't cost anything; they're memories."

Erik scoffed at that and was forced to tell her of the little boy and the dead butterfly. The pair sat side by side, leaning against the bookcase. As he spoke, Erik shifted into Christine's warmth. Her presence served to calm him further as he wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his dark head on her shoulder.

"I'm sure your mother didn't think you were giving her a dead insect," she assured him as she ran a soothing hand over his arm. Even as she spoke the words, Christine was not convinced they were true. But for Erik, she wanted them to be. "She was probably so upset your surprise was ruined that she didn't know how to react."

Erik looked at her, suddenly feeling his five-year-old self acquitted of the crime of ruining Mother's Day. He hadn't meant to upset her. He had been trying to do something nice for her. Hopefully Christine was right.

The pair sat in silence on the floor for a while longer, comfortable enough with each other that they did not feel the need to talk. Erik's anger had long since faded and he seemed more than happy to have Christine at his side, gently stroking his hand. If it had not been so uncomfortable, Erik would have happily stayed there forever. Eventually, with no feeling in her bottom, Christine pushed to her feet and went to retrieve the earrings.

"Now do you understand, Erik?" she asked gently as she placed the earrings in his hand. "Sitting with you, with your arm around me, means more to me than any amount of money you could spend."

He nodded, slowly coming to understand what she was saying. Christine was, of course, right. He had been carrying the burden of that butterfly with him for so long that he was convinced that the only good present was an expensive one. Maybe if that butterfly had not died, his mother would have loved her surprise and then he would not be opposed to giving gifts that did not require any money to be spent. "You do like the earrings, don't you?"

"The earrings are beautiful," she assured him with a smile. "One day, when the time is right, you will give them to me again and I will very happily accept them."

"Surely there's something else you want."

Christine paused and looked thoughtfully at Erik. She took her time responding, as if debating the wisdom of her request. "There is. I want to go out with you – in the daylight. The world is much more cheerful in the light. You spend too much time on your own, in the dark."

"No," he rejected the idea without thought. Then recalling what she had been saying, he sighed. "Let me think about it. Go and pick Arabella up from school while I think about it."

With a smile, Christine kissed Erik's cheek and headed for the door.

"What was that for?" he asked in confusion, his hand rubbing the spot her lips had just touched.

"For so many things," she responded mysteriously with a smile before leaving him alone with his thoughts.


	9. Chapter 9

**Tears in a Bottle**

We've officially reached the halfway mark of Erik, Christine and Arabella's story. We (and Erik and Christine) have a lot still to get through, but as we get closer to the end, I want to thank you all for all your encouraging reviews, following and 'favouriting' their latest story.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

"Arabella, please, leave us. I need to talk to Miss Daaé," Erik said very courteously as he interrupted Arabella's homework less than an hour after Christine had left him alone in the study.

"Why?" she asked with childlike curiosity.

"Because I need to answer a question. And I would prefer to do it without an audience."

Christine simply smiled, already suspecting Erik's response. "Go and practice your scales, Bella. I will meet you in the music room shortly." With a doting smile, she watched the girl go. Alone in the kitchen with Erik, she turned to him. She hid her hands under the table so Erik would not see their trembling as she waited for his answer. "What is this answer?"

"Yes, I will take you out in the sunlight."

Relief washed over Christine, making her weak. She had been certain he was going to say no. Still sitting on the stool, she reached out and pulled Erik into her arms. With a happy sigh, she folded her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest.

"You need only say the time and I will go with you," Erik said.

Beneath her ear, Erik's heartbeat doubled. He was terrified, yet he would venture outdoors just to see her happy. "When was the last time you were on a picnic?" she asked with a smile, her head still on his chest.

"I don't think I've ever been on one," he confessed, painfully aware of the childhood he had missed.

Christine pulled away from his chest and smiled broadly. "I'll show you that the light isn't as unfeeling as you seem to think it!"

* * *

><p>For two entire days, Erik wondered what Christine had planned. Picnics involved eating outdoors with bugs and sunlight. Simply imagining it sent him into a panic. Too scared to face his staff while in such a state, Erik hid in his study and only ventured out when he knew no one would be around. Only a few days ago he had been seeking out Christine's company, but now he was avoiding her. For most of the night, he paced the garden, trying to prepare himself for what lay ahead. Checking the clock, Erik assured himself that Christine would probably be in the kitchen eating lunch with Cook at this time. Certain he wouldn't encounter her he pulled open the door and found himself face to face with Christine.<p>

"Finally!" she cried with a smile as she grabbed his hand and began to walk with him down the hall. "I thought you would stay in there forever! You've been avoiding me, Erik."

"What is going on?" he asked, terrified. Although he knew she was taking him on the picnic, he had no idea where she had planned it. There were too many places she could take him in the middle of the day. And in the middle of summer, they would all be hot and crowded.

"We're going on our picnic," she answered cheerily, pulling him down to the kitchen to collect the picnic basket she had had Cook prepare.

In the kitchen, he pulled his hand out of hers and grasped the handle before she could reach it and with a flick of his other hand, indicated that she should lead the way. Instead of going to the garage, she confused him by heading out the back door.

"Where are we going?" Apparently wherever they were going was within walking distance. Maybe there wouldn't be too many people after all.

"To a little spot Bella and I found a few weeks ago. You have so much land, Erik; I'm surprised you don't use it more. It's so beautiful you should enjoy it. If I had anywhere near as much land as you do, I would be outdoors every day!"

So Christine led him to a sunny spot by a copse of trees. The trees were so close together that it created a natural arbour that let only a bit of dappled sunlight through, turning the grass a dark shade of green. She smiled, happy to be in the sunlight and tipped her face up to the sun. "We'll sit in the shade, under the trees."

Erik looked at the shade, then back at Christine and shook his head. He had bravely decided to have a picnic with her in the sunlight he wanted to prove he could cope. It was clear that she loved being in the sun. It would be wrong for him to expect her to give it up when he was doing this for her. So he set up the picnic in the sunlight.

"Why do you never go out in the light?" she asked softly after they had eaten their lunch. They were sitting opposite each other, the food in between them. Christine took the opportunity to admire Erik's face and take in every detail that, until today, she had been unable to see.

"Who would want to look at this?" he asked harshly. "People stare, Christine, and they point. It's best I go out when no one can see me. I don't like being a spectacle."

"I can see you now and I'm not staring."

"You are," he protested as he looked away from her turquoise eyes that were taking in every detail in an unnerving way.

"I'm gazing. I never knew your right eye has a tiny brown fleck in it. Or that your chin has a cleft. I had always thought your hair was black because of the light, but now I see it's naturally that colour. These are all beautiful things that I've never been able to see in the darkness of the chateau." She smiled softly at him and touched the corner of his eye, chin and hair as she spoke about the features of his face that she had never noticed before.

Erik gently wrapped his hand around Christine's wrist, his fingers caressing the skin. "You think them beautiful?"

Christine nodded. "And your skin is so pale, it's like Parian marble. If you're not careful, it's going to burn." Her eyes serious, she ran her finger over his exposed cheek and forearms. "We'd better go under the shade."

Quickly relocating into the dappled sunlight of the arbour, Christine looked at Erik, pleased to see that he was more relaxed now that he was in a darker setting. Sitting next to Erik, Christine stretched her arms over her head and collapsed back onto the rug with a contented smile. She closed her eyes, enjoying being out of Erik's house and in the fresh air.

With Christine happily lying back in the shade, Erik could do nothing more than watch her. She was so beautiful it hurt to look at her. The dappled sun played off her hair, turning the curls from brown to chocolate and copper. Her eyelashes fanned across her cheeks, contrasting with her pale skin.

"You can touch me, Erik. I'm not going to break," she said softly as she turned her head and fixed him with her intense turquoise gaze.

Erik looked at her in surprise, clearly guilty at being caught staring.

"It's okay. What do you want to touch?" she persisted softly.

"Your hair," he answered quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

With a smile, Christine took his quivering hand and placed it in her hair.

Erik ran his hands through her curly hair. He had expected it to be rough, but his fingers glided through it. It was like silk. His fingers left the lengths of her hair and touched her hairline from one temple to the other. He pulled his hand away, shocked at his own brazenness.

"Now what do you want to touch, Erik?"

He swallowed nervously. "Your face."

"Then touch me."

His fingers flitted nervously, indecisively, over her face for a moment. Eventually, deciding on a plan, his fingers first traced the outline of her heart shaped face, starting at her wide forehead and finishing at her strong jaw and chin. As if drawing her face with his fingers, he traced her forehead, her nose, cheekbones and lips.

Christine was breathing heavily as she gazed into Erik's eyes. This really was the first time that he had ever actively touched her. The simple act of touching her face was the most romantic thing she had ever experienced. Even if she had wanted to, she would have been unable to pull her gaze away from his adoring eyes.

Erik's hand travelled down her neck and for a moment, it hand trembled over her breasts. But in the end his hand fell to his side. With a sigh he fell back against the rug and closed his eyes, mortified at his almost uncontrollable desire to touch her. Without a word, Christine reached for Erik's hand and enfolded her hand around his.

* * *

><p>"What am I supposed to do?" Christine asked Mama Valerius as she tried to hold back tears. She was so confused. "I love the sun and being outdoors, but it was a struggle just to get Erik to agree with me to go into the sun. How can we have a relationship when one spurns the thing that the other loves?"<p>

Mama Valerius looked at Christine and realised just how much her daughter had grown up. She could remember a time when Christine had sat beside her, her head on her shoulder as she cried over her friend forgetting to give an invitation to a birthday. It turned out that Christine's invitation had accidentally been left at home but that did not stop Christine from coming home and crying at the thought that her friend did not like her. Today, Christine was sitting with her head on Mama's Valerius's shoulder, her voice tight with tears. Despite the years, some things never changed.

"If you love him, none of that will matter," Mama Valerius informed Christine calmly. "Papa Valerius hated my parents. So I never visited them with him. I made sure I saw them when he was at work. Unfortunately it meant I couldn't see them at Christmas, but they understood. It was something we resolved between ourselves so it wasn't an issue."

She smiled mistily as she recalled the arguments she and her late husband used to share. They would shout at each other, but always before they went to bed they would apologise, kiss each other and then climb into their bed as if nothing had happened.

"You and Erik can do that as well. But if you feel you can't, if you love the sun more than you love him, then you might have to let him go. You need to ask yourself whether you love him enough to make the changes to your life that are necessary to keep him."

Christine nodded at Mama Valerius's words. The wise woman knew what she was talking about. Christine would never have a normal life with Erik. His house was lit with low voltage lights. It was a wonder he could see anything. It was clear he hated the sunlight. He hated it as much as she loved it.

"What would you do, Mama V?"

"I would give up everything I owned to be with the man I love," she answered quickly, unaware that her words echoed Erik's. "If Papa Valerius were returned to me, I wouldn't see my parents because I know it would make him more comfortable. Just to be with him again, I would give up almost anything."

Christine sat in silence, wondering if she had made a mistake in begging Erik to go out into the daylight with her. Was it fair of her to force him into something he did not like just so she could have an hour of bliss?

* * *

><p>Christine had just returned from visiting Mama Valerius and was planning to go straight to bed. By now, she assured herself as she glanced at her watch, Erik would have put Arabella to sleep and would be sitting in the music room, composing yet another piece of music. He always managed to occupy his time while she away.<p>

Quietly walking past the music room, she was surprised when she didn't hear any music emanating from the room. Thinking nothing of it – maybe Erik's muse had left him again – she proceeded up to her bedroom. She stopped a few metres away from her door and stared, her eyes wide with surprise.

Erik was waiting by her door for her to return, a leather folio under his arm. "I have a gift for you," he said as he closed the short distance that separated them. His hand only shaking a little, he reached out and touched Christine's cheek.

Too shocked to respond, Christine let him take her hand and lead her back downstairs to the music room where he quickly shut and locked the door behind him.

"You've already spent too much money on me," Christine protested as she pulled the folio from his hand, set it on the closest flat surface and wrapped her hands around his arms.

"This didn't cost anything!"

Intrigued, Christine looked at Erik. He had finally learnt that he couldn't buy her and that he didn't have to spend all his money on her to make her happy. Her turquoise eyes sparkled with excitement. "What is it?"

Rather than answering, Erik gently removed Christine's hands from his arms, kissed them and sat down at the piano. Pulling out the music from the folio – that he did not need – he began to play the song his muse, his Christine, had demanded he write for her. Very soon, his voice was mixing with the notes, creating an exquisite, spellbinding melody.

Enthralled, Christine wandered over to the piano and stood next to Erik, reading the words over his shoulder. It was beautiful, haunting. It spoke of his longing to be with the woman he loved and to have her love him in return. He bemoaned the sleepless nights he endured because she wasn't at his side and counted the hours until he would see her again. Tears trickled down Christine's cheeks unchecked.

When the song was over, Erik left his hands resting lightly on the keys and his gaze on the music. He was too nervous to look at Christine. It was the first time he had spoken of his love for her and was not sure if she felt the same way. He would be best to wait and let her form her own interpretation of the song. He did not want to confess to loving her only to discover that she did not feel that way about him.

"Was that about me?" she asked softly as she sat down beside him on the stool and took his hands in hers.

Erik just nodded, his eyes still on the music. Beneath her hands, his fingers shook with uncertainty.

Gently grasping his chin, Christine turned Erik's head so he was looking at her. Her turquoise eyes burnt his. "Do you love me?"

"Oh, Christine! I have never loved anyone the way I love you," he confessed. He pulled his gaze from hers, finding it too intense. He also worried that she did not love him and he did not want to see the pity in her eyes when she threw his love back in his face.

Christine smiled brightly at his proclamation and kissed his cheek. "I'm glad. I love you, too."

"You don't have to say it if you don't mean it," Erik muttered, not sure if he could believe her words. He had no experience with this situation and had no idea to tell if someone was telling the truth or not.

Christine pulled her hands from his and cupped his face so he would be forced to look at her and read the truth in her eyes. "I do mean it, Erik; _I love you._"

"How can you love me? You haven't even seen my face?"

"I know all I need to know. You're a good man who has been wronged by someone he trusted. You take good care of your niece who you didn't even know existed until a few months ago. I don't need to see your face to know that I love you." To prove it to him, she leant forward and kissed him again, this time on the lips.

It was their first kiss and the love, passion, tenderness, concern and need to prove their love showed. Christine's hands slid down to Erik's shoulders where she clung to him as if scared he would disappear. Erik's hands fluttering about as numerous thoughts ran through his head. It wasn't until Christine grasped them and placed them around her waist that their shaking stilled and all thoughts fled his mind.


	10. Chapter 10

**Tears in a Bottle**

It's been far longer than I realised since my last update. I've been a little distracted working on another story and time just slipped by. To make up for my delay, I give you an extra long chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

With Erik's lawyer in constant conversation with both Erik and Jean's lawyer, any hope for the investors for a quick resolution was quickly quashed. The two lawyers made very little headway in the situation. Erik was convinced that Jean had used his company and stole from hundreds of investors for his own benefit while Jean had convinced his lawyer that Erik was trying to destroy any chance he had of a successful future.

Everyday, Erik struggled with the best way to proceed. He still hoped that Jean would do the right and honourable thing. Christine was convinced that he should pay the money back. Like himself, Erik's lawyer refused to accept defeat and was determined to make Jean accept responsibility. But as time wore on and the press became increasingly negative, Erik found himself leaning towards Christine's resolution and paying everyone back from his own money.

Despite all of Erik's torment, no one knew what he was thinking or planning to do. Doing his best to keep his shame to himself, Erik decided against making an announcement that Lechmere Enterprises had been duped and legal council was currently being undertaken. How could such a successful, respected company make such a stupid decision that saw thousands of people robbed of their hard earned money? Perhaps if he had, his investors might have been a little more understanding.

They were all focused on their own world of struggle. Each day they struggled to get to the next. No one thought that Erik might be tormented by the decision he had to make. They were all convinced they were the only ones who were suffering.

* * *

><p>Knowing that Christine loved him softened that side of Erik that had always despised society. He no longer hated the <em>entire<em> human race. Christine showed him that he could be loved and he was learning to love in return. Although he would always be looked upon as something hideous and horrible, knowing that Christine loved him gave him faith to believe that not everyone would despise him.

With their new understanding, Erik was sure that Arabella did not despise him either. At the beginning, he had been worried that what Christine had accused him of was right; he had been trying to buy his niece's affection just as he had bought Christine numerous times. But he knew that was not true. He just wanted to see Arabella happy. Both he and Arabella went out of their way to see that the other never lacked for anything. So when Arabella asked to have her classmates over after he had mentioned it once in passing, he had quickly said yes just so he could see the delighted look on her face.

He was determined that she makes friends and be happy at school after the saga with Sofi and thought the suggestion of a pool party – where she would be in her own territory – was perfect. Knowing how much trouble she was having making friends, Erik didn't want to about the reasons why a group of kids was so eager to join Arabella for a day of swimming at her uncle's chateau. Their reasoning didn't matter anything to him if it meant Arabella was happy. He only hoped that by the end of the day his niece would have a better friend than Sofi.

With this in mind, Erik was able to face the mass of children who descended on his chateau. Normally he would have been shaking with fear – or rage – at the thought of a dozen strangers invading his home – not that they were allowed in his chateau. That had been the only condition he had placed on the party: no one was allowed inside; they were all restricted to the pool house. But today a very different Erik faced the group of strangers. This Erik was convinced that he could be loved and that clearly not everyone in the world hated him and he should not hate the world either. He was also determined not to lose control and show Christine a side of himself that he hoped she would never see.

For almost two hours, Arabella and a group of her school friends swam in the pool, throwing balls to one another and playing games. Erik watched from the safety of his bedroom as Christine sat on the edge of the pool, supervising the children and basking in the sunlight. If he did not suspect that they were only there to try and see what her masked uncle looked like – and the sun didn't hurt his eyes – he would have joined them outside. A party was another thing he had never experienced as a child.

When Cook brought out plates of food for the children and they all scrambled out of the pool to devour it, Erik wandered downstairs and stood in the shade of the building to watch. It was not long before Christine joined him, a plate of food in her hand.

"How is she?" he asked.

"She's having a wonderful time. The other children seem to be enjoying themselves."

Erik nodded. He did not care about the other children; he only wanted Arabella to be happy. She was his main concern. "And they're being nice to her?"

"Very nice."

"Has anyone made a comment about her parents or me?"

"They're too excited about the pool to remember the rumours. I think a few have wondered where you are but it's nothing that Arabella and I can't handle."

"And has she shown an attachment to anyone in particular?" Erik asked, pleased with the responses Christine was giving.

Christine paused with a mini quiche halfway to her mouth and looked up at him thoughtfully. "You had this all planned, didn't you? You wanted her to invite everyone over so that she could befriend them away from school and Sofi's rumours." When Erik nodded unrepentantly, Christine continued, "I don't know if she realises how lucky she is to have an uncle like you, Erik." She smiled happily and kissed his jaw before gratefully stepping closer to the warmth of his body and pulled her towel more firmly around her body. The breeze that whipped through chilled her damp legs.

Surprised by her comment and the way Christine unexpectedly tucked herself against his body, Erik lapsed into silence but he could not help resting his hand protectively on Christine's back. Even if Christine had discovered his plans, it was unlikely that Arabella would ever realise that he had encouraged the party so that she could find herself some new friends. He wanted Arabella to be happy at school as well as at home. And he knew the best way to do that was to ensure she had friends. She needed someone to look after her at school and keep her from becoming that lonely child she used to be.

"You're exaggerating again, Christine," he accused softly, almost playfully.

"No, I'm not. I would never lie about something this serious." Christine set her plate down on the railing and shifted so she was standing in front of Erik, her hands resting lightly on his chest. Her head tipped back and smiled up at him, silently begging him to kiss her.

Erik looked down at Christine's sweetly upturned face, wanting to feel her lips again. He looked quickly over her head to see that the children were too busy eating Cook's food to even notice that he had left his room. His fingers wrapped around her hips and he took a step towards her.

"Uncle Erik!" Arabella cried as she and two other girls went racing towards the spot where Erik and Christine were hidden.

Erik and Christine guiltily pulled away from each other, both hoping that Arabella had not noticed how close they had been standing together. Christine tried to hide her disappointment behind a bright smile while Erik struggled to hide his frustration.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Arabella?" Erik asked as he hid his hands behind his back, so Arabella would not see their shaking and so he would not be tempted to touch Christine in front of his niece.

"Yes! This is the best party ever! Uncle Erik, can Pippa and Miranda stay the night?"

"Tonight?" Erik choked out, completely taken aback by her request. He stared at her, not sure how to answer.

"Not tonight, Bella," Christine said softly, seeing the trouble Erik was having accepting Arabella's question. He liked his privacy and she knew that a few hours notice was not enough time for him to adjust to the idea of having two of Arabella's friends sleep over in his chateau. Since they had been about to kiss, she was sure anything relating to his niece had been the last thing on Erik's mind. "Pippa and Miranda will need to go home and get their clothes and we haven't even asked their parents. Why don't we arrange it for next weekend?"

"Can we, Uncle Erik? _Please?_" Arabella looked at Erik with round eyes filled with hope.

"Yes," Erik responded when Christine nudged him in the ribs. "The girls can come over next weekend."

"Thank you!" Arabella cried with absolute joy as she threw her arms around Erik before running back to the party.

"You've made her so happy," Christine observed when they were alone again as she wrapped her arm around Erik's waist.

That was all he wanted. If Arabella was happy, he was happy. If all he had to do to ensure she was happy was to allow her to invite her friends over, then he could endure it. As Christine had said, it was also Arabella's house. With Christine's love and her arm wrapped around his body, Erik felt so ecstatic and like the luckiest man. Never before had he been so happy. As long as he had Christine and Arabella with him, he would never lack for anything.

* * *

><p>After all the children had gone, too excited to sit down quietly, Arabella had begged Christine for a singing lesson. So, for the first time, Erik sat in on the lesson with Christine and Arabella. Christine could sense every movement he made, every intake of breath when she sang and every nod of approval when she corrected Arabella's technique. That hour of being able to sense him, but unable to touch him had been torture. The air was so filled with tension she was surprised that Arabella was unaware of it.<p>

After sending the girl away for her shower, Erik slid onto the stool beside Christine, kissed each of her fingers and then produced several sheets of music, which he set out before her.

"Play this with me before you go to see Mrs Valerius," he begged her softly before he kissed the back of each hand.

Christine took one look at the music and her eyes widened with uncertainty at the complexity of it. "It's for four hands."

Erik nodded. Still holding her hands in his, he smoothed his thumb over the back of her hands. "I wrote it with the intention that we would be able to play together. I have dreamed of sitting beside you and playing with you, Christine. Please, play it with me before you leave to see Mrs Valerius."

Faced with such an eloquent speech, Christine could only nod.

In moments, the couple was playing the duet, their hands moving together in perfect harmony to bring to life the song that Erik had imagined for them both. Although she had never seen the music before and was unfamiliar with the notes – unlike Erik – Christine found her hands gliding over the keys in an instinctive way. Without having to say a word, Erik gently guided her.

It was as if she had known this song and Erik's style of music her entire life. She was able to fit in with him, move with him without a thought. At the end of the song, Christine was almost convinced she had played it numerous other times with Erik. It was as if they had been made to play together, to be beside each other.

A few hours later after she had returned from visiting Mama Valerius, Christine pushed open the door to Erik's bedroom and stood in the doorway, gazing at him.

"What are you doing here, Christine?" Erik asked softly.

She said nothing as she stepped into his arms and kissed him. "I couldn't sleep; that song has been running through my mind all night. I wanted to play that song with you again."

Erik's face lit with delight as he entwined his fingers around Christine's hand and led her to the music room. Once there, he released his grip on Christine's hand to adjust the music, which he had left on the stand. That job done, he seated himself on the stool beside Christine only to have her kiss him once more.

Reluctantly pulling away from his lips, she set her hands on the keys, indicating she was ready to play. For almost two hours they played together in perfect harmony, their hands never accidentally bumping each other. Their thighs and arms, however, pressed firmly and intimately.

When her wrists finally began to ache, Christine shifted slightly so she could face Erik. "Will you play my song for me again?"

Without giving any indication that he had heard her, Erik began to play the love song he had written for her. More certain of her response this time, his gaze never left hers, his pale blue eyes glowing with his love for her in the dim light.

The song over, Christine kissed him again with all the love and desire she possessed. Her hands roved over his chest and shoulders as she deepened the kiss.

"Christine," Erik gasped, his voice husky as he pulled his hands away from her waist, unable to remember how they got to be there in the first place. "You should go up to your room. _Alone._" He untangled her arms from around his neck and set them primly in her lap.

Beyond words, Christine just shook her head.

"Christine-"

"I'm not scared, Erik. I love you. I love you and I want to show you how deeply I love you." Before he could protest again, she kissed him until she felt him surrender.

With a sigh that was filled with defeat and desire, Erik abruptly stood up, taking Christine with him as he knocked over the stool. He pressed a final kiss to her lips before he pulled her quickly up the stairs to his bedroom.

With the curtains still closed and the light glowing softly, Erik watched as Christine stripped down until she was completely naked. Every time she tried to reach for his shirt, he would grasp her hands and kiss her tenderly, effectively distracting her from her need to see him naked.

Once he had taken in every curve, every mole and every dimple, he led her to the bed, saw her settled among the pile of pillows and turned out the light, plunging the room into darkness. Removing his clothes as he made his way back to the bed, Erik joined Christine on the bed and kissed her.

* * *

><p>"Hello, Mama V!"<p>

Taken aback by the warmth of Christine's greeting, the older woman stood still, enduring the hug. Finally recalling herself, she wrapped her arms around Christine before pulling her inside. She glanced at her daughter, undisguised curiosity in her eyes.

"Sit down, Christine and I'll make you some tea. Then you can tell me what it is that has you so happy."

"No, Mama V, I'll get the tea. You sit down," Christine corrected, heading into the kitchen to put on the kettle. She moved through the cluttered kitchen, unfazed by the large dried flower arrangement on the fireplace, the canister of utensils and the cups hanging over the sink.

Christine bustled around the kitchen, humming happily to herself as she prepared the tea. A few minutes later she returned to the living room where Mama Valerius was sitting with two teacups and a plate of biscuits.

"All right, Christine, what is it?" Mama Valerius asked, agog with curiosity.

"I'm in love!"

That had been the last thing Mama Valerius had been expecting. She had thought her happiness had something to do with Christine's money being returned to her. "With whom? The only man I have heard you talk about is Erik."

Christine nodded. "Erik and I are in love."

Trying to find the right thing to say, Mama Valerius took her time selecting a biscuit. "And you're clearly happy."

"Very happy."

Mama Valerius nodded, quietly delighted that Christine had made the right choice about Erik. She knew her daughter adored being out in the sun, but she also knew how fleeting love was and the need to hold on to it tightly. Erik would provide more than enough sunlight for her daughter. Again she tried to think of something she could say but she didn't need to worry. Christine was talking enough for them both.

"Erik isn't at all how I first thought him. He's still a little domineering – that's just who he is – but there's a softer, gentler, almost vulnerable, side to him. Do you know what he did for me, Mama V? He composed a song!" Christine answered before Mama Valerius could answer. "He wrote a song just for me and he wrote another so we could play the piano together. Every night we sit side by side at the piano and play. I want you to meet him, Mama V."

"I want to meet him too, Christine. If the man has made you this happy, I'm sure I will love him almost as much as you do. Your father would be so happy for you. I don't doubt he would give Erik his blessing."

At the mention of her father, tears slid down Christine's cheeks. He had been gone for eighteen years and yet not a day went by when Christine did not think of him. What most saddened her was the realisation that her father would never meet Erik and he would not be there to walk her down the aisle if she and Erik married.

Dabbing away her tears, she turned to Mama Valerius. "Erik's planning something for my birthday next week – he won't say what – and suggested that you come to the chateau. You will come, won't you?"

Mama Valerius nodded as if there had never been any doubt in her mind that she would attend her daughter's birthday.

* * *

><p>A few hours later, Christine climbed into Erik's bed, shedding her clothes as she went. Burrowing so close to his side that there was not any space between them, she rested her head on his shoulder and began to cry softly. Her tears soaked through to his shirt and Erik wrapped his arm around her shoulders to try to still their shaking.<p>

"What is the matter?" he asked softly, wiping tears from her face. He had not been in bed long; he had been restlessly pacing the garden, waiting for her to come home and only headed up to his bed when he heard her car pull up. "Did you have a fight with Mrs Valerius?"

Christine shook her head against Erik's shoulder and gave a small sniff. "I didn't fight with Mama V. She's excited to meet you."

"Then why are you crying?" Erik pressed, shifting so he could look at her face, his eyes able to make out the smallest details of her expression since he was so used to the dim lighting.

"I realised that Papa will never meet you. He will never know the man I love and he won't be there to walk me down the aisle." She let out a soft, sad chuckle. "My father will never meet my husband – whoever he is."

Erik was shocked at Christine's words. He knew she had been close to her father who died when Christine was only six, but he had not realised that after so much time she still mourned him. There were times he noticed she would stare out the window, looking pensive. He had always assumed that at these times she was daydreaming or imagining new ways to torture him. It never occurred to him that she was thinking of her father and the life they would have had together.

"He'll be there with you," Erik said. "The dead never leave us."

Heartened at his words, Christine sat up and looked at Erik. In the dark the only feature that she could make out was his white mask, which despite the dark seemed to glow. She knew he was staring at her, looking at her with a certainty that comforted her.

"Do you really believe that?" she asked, hopeful for the first time in years.

Erik took his time answering her question. He considered himself a man of science and never thought it possible that after a body died, the soul could live on either in another person or that it could visit family and friends the person had known before he or she died. But he could never tell Christine of his theory; it would break her heart.

He cupped her face in his hands and tenderly kissed her. "For you, Christine, I want to."

* * *

><p>"How is your lesson, Arabella?" Erik asked as he joined Christine and Arabella in the music room halfway through her singing lesson when she paused to take a sip of water.<p>

"Great! I'm so excited to be singing my songs! I can't believe I got the part!"

Erik and Christine just smiled at each other. When she arrived home from school, Erik had wasted no time in telling Arabella about the call he received from the producer of the show she had auditioned for a few weeks ago. The little girl had been so excited that she insisted that she and Christine start practising her songs straight away.

"Do you mind if I join you for the rest of your lesson?" Erik asked, looking at both Christine and Arabella. He did not want to intrude if Christine thought his presence might distract Arabella.

Arabella nodded her head happily before returning to her usual place at the piano. "I want you to hear my songs!"

As Erik passed Christine on his way to a chair, he gently caressed her neck, careful to make sure Arabella couldn't see what he was doing.

The little girl still did not know that they were in love and sharing the same bed. And that was how they wanted it to stay. They did not want Arabella to worry about the effect this would have on her relationships with both adults, or to worry what would happen to her tutor if Erik and Christine broke up. Not that they saw that ever happening. They wanted to know precisely where they were going before they told Arabella.

That was why they were careful to keep their love for each other hidden. They tried never to touch each other while Arabella was around, although that was often impossible. They both made sure that she was never around when Christine left Erik's room. At the beginning, organising this had been a challenge.

They had tried sneaking Christine back to her room before the sun rose, but that felt too scandalous and neither of them liked dozing in a bed by themselves since they had quickly become accustomed to the other. Erik had let Christine go downstairs and wait for Arabella to wake and prepare her for school. But after one day of waiting almost an hour on his own, Erik dismissed that as an option. In the end, they both decided that the best thing to do would be to wait for Arabella to wake, then when Erik was sure she would be in the kitchen, Christine would join her. Once he was dressed, Erik would also quickly follow. It was not perfect, but it would work until they could think of another way. But until Christine was his wife they would always be sneaking around.

"What do you think, Uncle Erik? Will I be good enough?" Arabella asked when she had performed her songs for Erik.

"I think by the time the show is ready, you will be amazing!" Erik assured her with a smile.

"You'll both come and watch me, won't you?" Arabella asked as she looked uncertainly at Erik and Christine.

"Of course we will," Christine responded with a smile for Arabella and a warning look for Erik. She was already aware that he would be reluctant to venture out to the theatre but there was no way she would allow him to miss the opportunity of watching his niece perform. "We wouldn't miss it! Now, my little poppet, I think it's time you rested your voice. So, go and have a shower and when you come back, Cook will have dinner – a special dinner to celebrate your success – ready for you."

"What special dinner?" Erik asked softly once he and Christine were alone in the music room. He joined her on the piano stool and gathered up her hands in his.

"I spoke to Cook this afternoon and she's making something for Bella. I thought she deserved something special after getting that part."

Erik shook his head in wonder. Christine was becoming very familiar with the staff and was not against issuing orders if necessary. He had always imagined that his wife would deal with the cook and the housekeeper while he did the work. Apparently, that was how Christine expected things to be as well. Somehow, without either of them knowing it, she had fallen into a role of wife, mother and mistress of the chateau. She seemed so content with her new lot in life that he didn't have the heart to tell her what he had done. He would just wait and pray she never found out…he did not want anything to ruin their happiness or the evening he was planning for her birthday in just over a week's time.

"Did I do something wrong?" Christine asked uncertainly when she saw that look in Erik's eyes.

"No. You're perfect," he promised earnestly, making Christine smile. "Everything will be perfect." He cupped her face in his hands and tenderly kissed her.

* * *

><p>With Arabella at school, Erik and Christine often spent an hour or so playing the piano. Over the last few weeks Erik had composed another fourhanded duet that he and Christine could play together. He had been desperate to hear her voice entwined with his and had composed this song so that they could play and sing together. He still worked most of the day, but always made sure he took a break so he could spend some time with Christine.<p>

Today, they were hidden beneath the soft autumn sun in an open field on Erik's property. They had been sleeping together for more than a month and still Erik made sure the lights were off so she could not see him. She was aware that he would often open the curtains at night so that the moon could light the room but he never opened them until she was asleep and he always made sure they were closed before dawn. It was clear that he was trying to trying to stop her from seeing something. With a disgruntled sigh, Christine wished he would believe her when she said she loved him and the way he looked didn't matter.

He was still unconvinced that she loved him enough not to worry about the scars and marks on his body. She had felt them when she ran her hands over his chest and arms but had never seen them. He had seen her naked numerous times and knew her body by heart. But she had never seen him. She was finding it rather frustrating and was having trouble hiding it. What more could she do to prove to him that she loved him despite the way he looked? Every day she worried about their relationship and the toll his self-consciousness and insecurities would take on it.

Pulling her attention back to the present, Christine looked at Erik who was lying peacefully on the rug, staring up at the clouds drift across the sky. Sensing Christine staring at him, Erik cupped her face in his hands before kissing her so tenderly that Christine had no choice but to respond. Her hands reached out to clutch the collar of his shirt. When he finally pulled away, he gazed into her eyes, his eyes full of love.

"Until you and Arabella came along I had never known what it was like to be part of a family," Erik began quietly, his thumb stroking her lips. "But now, even though you aren't my wife, and Arabella isn't my daughter, I feel that I finally belong. With the two of you, I have the family I've always wanted.

"I love you, Christine. I never want you to leave me. When you're with me, I feel whole, complete. I can forget everything I've been through just as long as you say you love me."

Faced with Erik's eloquence yet again, Christine could only nod as tears pooled in her eyes. "I love you, Erik; you know I do. No mater what happens, I'm never going to stop loving you."

Erik seemed to relax at her words as if he had been waiting for that reassurance. His hands still cupping her cheeks, Erik leant forwards to kiss her again with a softness that brought tears to her eyes.

Christine could have stayed kissing him forever. Reluctantly pulling away, Christine gave Erik a smile even as pushed her hair from her face. Her annoyance was put into perspective and almost forgotten in face of his love for her.

* * *

><p>Her diamond earrings glistening in the soft light of the dining room, Christine glowed with happiness as she took in the scene around her. It was her birthday and she was surrounded by the people she loved: Erik, Arabella, Mama Valerius and Lola. The day had been one surprise after another, but to have Mama Valerius and Lola at the table with her, enjoying the feast that Cook had prepared made Christine the happiest she had been in a while.<p>

Erik had drawn the heavy velvet curtains of the dining room and covered the sideboard and buffet table with candles and roses. The crystal glasses reflected the light, splintering it and casting rainbows throughout the room. Fake diamonds – well, Christine hoped they were fake – were scattered carelessly across the table.

He had searched for the perfect inspiration for Christine's birthday and he had found it in a scandal that had occurred centuries earlier. Apparently Marie-Antoinette had been involved in the purchase of an expensive diamond necklace and a massive scandal had broken out. She had never intended to buy it – in fact she had begged her husband not to buy the necklace for her. When the jewellers did not receive their payment they approached the queen. It had all been done to discredit her. So, the Affair of the Diamond Necklace as it later became known was what inspired him. So all day long he had used diamonds, crystals, ice and light to make Christine's day unforgettable.

And her father was there, too. Christine was not sure how she knew, but she knew he was standing between Erik and herself, assessing the man she loved. She was convinced her father saw when Erik surreptitiously gave her hand a loving squeeze under the table – away from Arabella's little eyes. It was this loving gesture that she knew her father would have seen and instantly given Erik his approval.

Mama Valerius approved of Erik. She found the mask a little frightening, but the older woman smiled at Erik so kindly and took such an interest in his work and the role Christine played in his house and life that the couple instantly relaxed, knowing everything would be alright. She saw the way that Erik and Christine tried to hide their love – particularly from Arabella – but her wise eyes saw the loving looks and secret touches they shared.

"Those earrings are divine!" Lola gasped during a lull in conversation. She eyed the diamonds that dripped from Christine's ears.

"Erik gave them to me," Christine answered happily, glancing lovingly at Erik in time to see him playfully pull a rosebud from behind Arabella's ear – much to the little girl's delight.

"Are they real diamonds?" Lola continued.

"Of course they are!" Erik responded before he could stop himself.

Christine smiled at him, amused by the way he quickly affirmed that they were real. As if he would buy her anything but the best. She knew how long he had waited to give her the Marie-Antoinette earrings and she was delighted to be wearing them. Only they would know, but it showed how far they had come in their relationship that he was able to give them to her and she was able to accept them.

While Lola and Erik discussed her new life at the piano bar, Christine's thoughts drifted back to her day. It had started like any other, Erik and Christine had seen Arabella off to school as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Then once they were alone in the chateau, Erik had taken Christine to their arbour and had just sat with her in his arms. After spending hours outdoors, Erik had taken her into the dining room where Cook had arranged lunch for them. Lunch was a spectacular arrangement of soup, sandwiches and brioche to dip in traditional hot chocolate. When Christine asked him what he was doing about his work, Erik responded simply with, "I've cleared my calendar today."

With lunch eaten, Erik further surprised Christine by taking her to the music room where he sat her down on the stool beside him and began to play a song he had composed just for her birthday in the traditional baroque style of the eighteenth century. At Christine's insistence, he had sung that first song he had written for her and allowed her to play the duet with him. If it made her happy, Erik would give Christine anything.

"Happy birthday, my love," Erik whispered when he had finished playing Christine's song.

Smiling in delight, Christine buried her hands in his black hair neck and kissed him. "This is one birthday I won't forget! It's perfect!"

As if those words were the cue Erik had been waiting for, he pushed her hair behind her ear and magically made Mari-Antoinette's diamond earrings appear. With a little smile, he dropped them in Christine's hands.

"You'll accept them, won't you?" he asked as he hid his hands so she wouldn't be able to see their shaking.

"Of course I will. I'll wear them to dinner tonight. And it will be perfect!" With another smile, Christine grabbed Erik's hand and pulled him from the stool and up to his room.

Reaching across the small space of the table that separated them, Erik touched Christine's earring, untwisting it. His knuckles gently grazed her neck. If they had not known before, Mama Valerius and Lola now knew that Erik and Christine were in love. The only person who was unaware of it all was Arabella who was too busy applying herself to her dessert of a gateau surrounded by macarons to notice.


End file.
